


Demeter At Eleusis

by Aurelia_Combeferre



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barricades, F/M, Family, Feminism, Gen, Revolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 99,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurelia_Combeferre/pseuds/Aurelia_Combeferre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Fantine chooses to raise Cosette instead of leaving her at the Thenardiers' inn. A seemingly simple decision changes much for four women and the people they are unfortunate to be associated with.,</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Another epic begins! I began working on this idea years ago in the unfinished fic “Her Mother’s Daughter”, but I decided to rework and finish the tale. 
> 
> The basic premise: What if Fantine chose to raise Cosette herself, instead of asking the Thenardiers to take her in?
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Victor Hugo's characters, or anything that was originally in the novel "Les Miserables". Nor do I own any of the historical personages who make necessary cameos. However I do own some of the minor original characters who appear here, such as some revolutionaries, grisettes, and people on the street. No profit is intended in the writing of this historical-literary experiment.
> 
> This fic will involve a close but more or less platonic relationship with Jean Valjean and Fantine, as well as Marius/Cosette, Joly/Musichetta/Bossuet, and Enjolras/Eponine.

**Chapter 1: A Woman Standing Instead of Sitting**

 

The woman was standing, and not sitting near the door of the “Seargent of Waterloo”. Not only did she serve to make the inn a little less inconspicuous, but her attitude was a warning in itself even for an inexperienced traveler like Fantine. For a moment Fantine stood and watched, unseen by the colossus and her two little girls, unsure whether to go her own way or take a few more moments to rest. The tender picture of a mother tending to a pair of little ones on a swing would have been reassuring, were it not made a little unsettling and grotesque by the fact that the swing was made of a rusty iron chain, and that the mother was in bearing more of a tigress than a Madonna. However the weight of the carpetbag on Fantine’s back as well as that of the dozing little girl in her arms soon won out, and so she took a brave step forward. She took a deep breath before standing up straight and saying by way of greeting, “You have two beautiful children there, Madame.”

The redheaded woman looked up abruptly from where she’d been watching her daughters on their makeshift swing. “Thank you, Mademoiselle.” She stopped as if taking stock of this blonde, grave newcomer and her precious charge. “Why don’t you sit down for a moment here?’ she asked, gesturing to a bench.

“Thank you, Madame,” Fantine said, eagerly taking the seat offered to her before setting down the carpetbag. As hospitable as this matron seemed, Fantine did not dare get too close, if only for the fact that her hostess’ arms were larger than cudgels and her frame stouter than a wagon. _‘There’s a woman who doesn’t need to fear prowlers,’_ she couldn’t help thinking as she watched this woman as well as the two pretty children in the swing.

The matron looked keenly at Fantine. “My name is Madame Thenardier. We keep this inn.”

“Yes, I see,” Fantine said. “I’m Fantine. Only Fantine, there’s no other name to it.”

“Well then,” Madame Thenardier said gruffly. “Where are you headed to?”

“My hometown,” Fantine replied. She glanced down at her daughter, who was still fast asleep; how long would it be till she would have to tell her child some version of this story? “I had work in Paris till not too long ago. That failed, and with my husband just dead, what could I do? I left this morning” she said to Mme. Thenardier.

The matron sniffed. “You mean to walk all the way?”

“Naturally, no. I was able to meet the coach headed for Villemomble. From there I walked, and now I’m here,” Fantine replied. She stroked her daughter’s dark hair affectionately and kissed her cheek. “I tried to let my little girl walk some of the way, but you can see that she is so young and could not manage it so far.”  

The plump little girl in Fantine’s arms stirred and opened her eyes, which were an alluring shade of deep blue. For a moment she yawned drowsily before looking at her mother and giggling. She squirmed her way out of Fantine’s grip and toddled over to the two other little girls in the swing. She gave them an impish smile by way of greeting, which was returned by a quizzical but gay look from the older girl and a rather more cautious one from the younger.

Mme. Thenardier lumbered over to her daughters and undid the large ugly scarf that held them to the iron chain. “Play together all three of you,” she said, helping them to the ground.

Fantine watched this tender scene cautiously, marvelling silently at the contrast of the children and this big, rude plaything. While she could not say that her childhood had been much better; after all she had been an urchin, there was still something decidedly unsettling about this disparity.  She smiled when she saw her own child digging a hole in the ground, using both a piece of her wood and her fingertips. ‘ _Never mind the dress for now,’_ she thought, seeing how flecks of dirt were now all over the fine lace trimming and ribbons of her daughter’s dress.

Mme. Thenardier observed her own children for a little longer before looking to Fantine again. “What is your daughter’s name?”

“Cosette,” Fantine replied. ‘ _The name Euphrasie is too fine for most days,’_ she reminded herself. It had been the name of the first woman who’d taken her in for a brief spell back in Montreuil-sur-mer. That had been long ago, and Fantine knew better than to hope that this benefactor would still be around. She looked to Mme. Thenardier. “What about your two daughters?”

“This one is Eponine, and the second is Azelma,” Mme. Thenardier said, gesturing first to the elder, who was a rosy blonde, and then the younger, whose hair was a mousy shade of brown. “How old is yours?”

It took Fantine a moment to work out the months. “Almost three.”

“The same age as my eldest,” Mme. Thenardier said. She let out a rather simpering sigh at the sight of the three girls crouched together, watching a worm emerging from the ground. “Look at those children! One would almost swear they were sisters!”

Fantine was entranced at this sight, and for a moment some inexplicable happiness welled up in her person. Before she could voice this out, a harsh voice cut through the idyll. “Wife! Who is there?” a man’s voice called from within the house.

“That is my husband,” the Thenardier woman told Fantine. “Only a passerby,” she called to her spouse.

“Well leave her be for a minute, there is something I need to speak with you about,” the master of the house barked.

“I’ll watch them for a minute,” Fantine said impetuously, seeing the worried gaze that Mme. Thenardier threw towards the girls.

Mme. Thenardier nodded quickly. “He’d better not keep me long,” she said under her breath before marching into the house to speak to her husband.

For a moment Fantine’s eyes lingered on the three girls, making sure that they were in no danger of coming to grief thanks to something in the dirt or the looming presence of the wagon nearby. However the increasingly raised voices from within the inn soon drew her attention and it was not long till she gave in to her usual imprudence and pressed her ear to the keyhole.

A chair scraped against the floor and creaked dangerously as if someone had sat down heavily. “What am I supposed to do then? You spend too much on bread when you know the bailiff is on his way—“ M. Thenardier groused.

“The old gent wouldn’t leave till he had his breakfast,” his wife said, her voice both ingratiating but just on the edge of seething. “I know you want to run a good business, my man, and we cannot have our guests too angry.”

“It would be easier if the brats didn’t have to eat so much! If only children did not have to grow!” Thenardier said. “Never mind, we’ll have to find a way to make up the fifty francs by tomorrow morning is that traveller alone?”

Fantine drew back at this mention of money; she had already perfected the art of recognizing a debt from the mere mention of it. ‘ _How will they do it, if no one else passes here?’_ she wondered. She felt a stab of pity on seeing the two little girls playing with Cosette; these ones were too young to know of their parents’ troubles. She made sure to situate herself a respectable distance from the doorway before Mme. Thenardier returned, now completely red in the face.

“My husband wishes to know if you will be taking your evening meal here, or spending the night,” Mme. Thenardier announced.

Fantine shook her head, almost without knowing it. “Thank you, but I think I should catch the next coach as soon as I can.”

“It might not be till morning.”

“I’ll walk and meet it again.”

Mme. Thenardier nodded heavily, but whether it was to conceal relief or disappointment, Fantine could not tell. “Well then be on your way. It will be dark soon.”

“Thank you Madame,” Fantine said hastily as she shouldered her carpetbag. She walked to where Cosette was still playing with the Thenardier girls. “Come, Cosette. We have to go now.”

The child looked up with big, protesting eyes. “Maman, play!” she cajoled, looking from her mother to her companions.

“We have a long way to go, Cosette,” Fantine said firmly, holding out her hand.

Cosette looked down for a moment before giving her new playmates a grave look. “Bye bye,” she whispered, giving them a feeble wave before scooting towards Fantine.

“You two be good for your Maman, please? It was nice to meet you two,” Fantine said to the Thenardier girls. She looked up to give Mme. Thenardier a cordial smile. “Thank you for your time Madame.”

Mme. Thenardier only nodded again before calling to her girls. Fantine quickly scooped up Cosette and headed down the road, hastening to put as much space between them and the Thenardiers’ inn in the shortest possible time. ‘ _I could not leave Cosette to such a debt again,’_ she decided, remembering what they had left behind in Paris. Somehow, the privations of the road seemed much friendlier and even more welcoming than the now ominous house.

 


	2. Chapter 2: The Faces of Succour

Chapter 2: The Faces of Succour

Although it was a long journey to Montreuil-sur-mer, Fantine suddenly was reluctant to quit the road once she came in sight of the town one afternoon as the sun was beginning its descent towards the horizon. 'Can I really bring Cosette into this?' she wondered as she paused at a glen to rest her feet and let Cosette sleep for a little while undisturbed. As she combed out her hair and tied it back with a kerchief, she tried to think of stories and alibis to explain away all the years she'd spent in Paris, but she could not set her brain to concocting a story that could spare her most of the jeering. 'I can't let my child hear such awful things. Maybe I should have left her to stay with someone, maybe in Paris,' she couldn't help thinking as she splashed some spring water on her face.

Yet that dire thought passed the moment Fantine looked at her daughter dozing peacefully with her pretty head pillowed on the carpetbag. How could she abandon such an angel to the care of strangers? And even so, how could they possibly be reunited? With her resolve now clear, she carefully placed the comb back in the carpetbag before shaking Cosette gently. "Cosette, wake up. We have to go now."

The child yawned and blinked her eyes open. "Maman?" she asked quizzically.

Fantine did not say anything but she helped her daughter to her feet before smoothing out Cosette's hair and her much mended dress. The once white and beribboned gown was now tinged a little gray and the ribbons were somewhat tattered, but some air of charming still remained around Cosette's attire. As for Fantine's own garb, she had done only what was necessary to keep warm and retain her modesty; even now her large blue handkerchief had to cover the much worn neckline of her brown dress. Both Fantine and Cosette were tanned from having walked a great deal under the sun. As a result, this pair was at least several steps above beggary, but a few steps too low for respectability.

Nevertheless Fantine saw no alternative, at least if she was to retain some dignity and happiness about her person. She took Cosette's hand and they walked down the newly paved road towards the center of the town. All the while Fantine kept her head down in order not to elicit any suspicion, but now and then she had to raise her eyes in order to get her bearings. 'I hardly know anything of this place anymore!" she realized with both bemusement and horror as she took in the sight of the better kept houses and clean roads of the town. The wretched hovels and lean-tos of her girlhood were now replaced by this landscape of newfound prosperity. Another startling change was that the trinkets factory in the 'lower' part of town had suddenly changed its face; what had once been a decrepit edifice was now fresh and bustling with life, and larger than ever.

For a moment this sight filled Fantine with hope; surely this place had a large workroom, and perhaps there would be a place in it even for a former needlewoman like her. Even if it was already the end of the workday, she still held hope that perhaps she could secure a place for the next morning. Yet before she could make her way towards the factory she saw several women exiting the premises, clearly gossiping among themselves. She stopped in her tracks, feeling suddenly chilled. 'If I come forward and ask, they will ask as well and what will I say to them?' she realized. She suddenly had the feeling as if she was watched from the windows or from the passing coaches, and at that moment it was as if her feet had suddenly taken root on the unforgiving pavement.

Suddenly Cosette tugged on her skirt. "Maman, look!"

"Cosette, it's rude to point!" Fantine chided as she grabbed her child's hand. Even so she couldn't resist looking around for what had caught her daughter's attention, and she almost cringed when she realized that Cosette had been staring at a woman dressed in a flowing white habit. "I'm sorry about that, Sister. She has never seen a nun before," Fantine said furtively to the lady.

The nun gave them that sort of smile which would have been amused and even a little mocking on any other woman, but on her face was only kind. "She isn't the first child to be so startled," she said. "Is she your daughter?"

Fantine nodded. "Her father is gone," she added almost reflexively. For some reason, no lie could leap to her lips, or at least it was impossible in the presence of this seemingly ethereal woman.

The nun's expression was wan as she regarded mother and child. "And where are you staying?"

"We only just arrived," Fantine admitted. Suddenly a wild, almost pitiful idea leapt to her mind. "If it is possible, may we stay at your convent at least till morning?" she asked. "My daughter will not take up much room, and I can sleep on the steps."

"We're hospitalers," the nun replied. "We do not rest at a convent."

"Is there work to be done there?" Fantine inquired. She held out her hands, which still bore the scars of her trade. "I never worked at an apothecary and I'm not a nurse, Sister. I can sew and help make bandages. I promise, my daughter shall be good and won't be a bother if I can stay and work."

The nun sighed as if in deep contemplation. "I shall have to speak with Monsieur the Mayor; he is the one who has a say in the running of the hospital. What is your name, Mademoiselle?"

"Fantine."

"Well then, follow me. At the very least you and Cosette-it's Cosette, isn't it-shall have a good dinner tonight. I will see to that."

"Oh than you Sister!"Fantine cried. Had no one else been on the street, she might have kissed the hem of this nun's habit, but as it was she contented herself with wiping away a happy tear. "How may I call you, Sister?"

"Sister Simplice," the nun replied.

For the first time in many days Fantine felt safe and heartened as she took Cosette's hand and they followed their benefactor towards the hospital some streets away. 'What good fortune these nuns are!" she couldn't help thinking, despite having once harboured an innocent disregard for their presence during her years in Paris. At the very least she could hope to be treated kindly and perhaps pointed to some situation suitable for her and Cosette.

The nun admitted them to a tiny apartment adjacent to the hospital's entrance. Here, another nun was busy making lint. "Sister Perpetue, we have a guest," Sister Simplice greeted her companion. "The lady is Fantine, and the little girl is Cosette."

Sister Perpetue, who was a more sturdily built and squat woman, nearly knocked over a nearby seat as she got to her feet. "May God bless you, Fantine. And haven't you got such an angel with you," she greeted openly. "Are you travellers?"

Fantine shook her head. "I'm here to make a living."

"We must speak with Monsieur the Mayor about giving her a place here," Sister Simplice said.

"Aren't there always places at the factory?" Sister Perpetue asked.

"Yes, but her child is still too young for the school; there is no way she can work there till that time," Sister Simplice replied. "Haven't we got a little meat for the stew?"

In the meantime Cosette was looking about restlessly, and she suddenly let out a startled cry. "Maman, over there!"

"Shhh. It's a room for sick people to rest," Fantine said, scooping up her child and sitting in a chair across the room so she wouldn't have to look at the sickroom next door.

Cosette's eyes were wide with fright as she climbed into her mother's lap. "Rest?"

"To get better."

Sister Perpetue pinched Cosette's cheek. "Now don't you worry about that, little girl," she crooned over the sound of knocking at the door. "That must be Monsieur the Mayor."

"Also known as Monsieur Madeleine," Sister Simplice explained to Fantine. "He visits every day since he helped put up this place."

Fantine smoothed out her hair just as the door opened to admit a venerable looking gentleman who must have been about fifty or so years old since his hair was thinning but not yet white with age. He was far from frail; there was strength in his shoulders but on closer inspection one could see that he had a way of dragging his right leg. She stood up by way of courtesy as this man exchanged a few gracious words with the nuns. "Good evening Monsieur," she greeted.

The mayor bowed graciously. "Good evening Mesdemoiselles. Welcome to Montreuil-sur-mer."

'More like welcome home perhaps,' Fantine thought as she sat down and set Cosette onto the floor. The little girl looked around before darting after Sister Perpetue, who had brought a cake out from a cupboard to tempt her with. She tried not to tap her feet as she watched Sister Simplice and Monsieur Madeleine in discussion; there was no need to even guess what the matter was about. She wrung her skirt in her lap, hardly noticing the creases this made in the fabric.

At length Monsieur Madeleine sat down at the table. "Sister Simplice has just informed me you are seeking work in this town," he said in a grave but polite tone.

"I am willing to do anything, Monsieur," Fantine said. A flying blush crossed her face as she realized how untoward this statement might have sounded. "I had thought of getting a place in the factory, but I do not know if it will be possible since I have my daughter with me, and she is too little to simply stay someplace while I try to work."

"Have you no kin here?"

"None at all. Cosette is all I have."

Monsieur Madeleine nodded pensively. Something in his expression was tender, but it was more akin to that springing from a dear memory than actual pity. "You can see that this hospital is not a large one. Nevertheless there is always much to be done. I cannot promise that you will have much in the way of wages, but there will be room and board for you and Cosette should you choose to have a place here," he finally said.

Fantine stared at him and Sister Simplice in disbelief. "I may stay? "

"If that is your wish," Sister Simplice said.

These words were sweeter than any benediction Fantine had ever heard. "Then I will do my very best here. Oh you are such good people," she replied happily. "I promise you will not regret it, Monsieur Mayor, Sister Simplice!"

"Sister Simplice will show you your tasks after dinner," Monsieur Madeleine said. "Only be honest. That is all I ask."

Fantine nodded happily. "I shall, Monsieur."


	3. Chapter 3: A Nest For Wanderers and Wolves

**Chapter 3: A Nest for Wanderers and Wolves**

By the end of the evening, Fantine had found not just a situation but a room, or to be more to the point, a garret nook. "It is not much but it is warm," Sister Perpetue explained as she showed Fantine and Cosette this tiny room above the hospital. "The windows are wide and let in a great deal of air, so you will not have to worry about any foulness coming up from the hospital," she added in a brighter voice.

"I think it will do nicely," Fantine replied as she looked around the room, which was bare of everything except an old iron bed, a creaky chest of drawers, and a rush chair. She set down her carpetbag next to the bed. "Cosette can share the bed with me; you can see she is so little."

"Someday she will need a cot," Sister Perpetue said as she set up a candle atop the chest of drawers and threw a coverlet onto the bed. She smiled a little ruefully at Fantine. "Sister Simplice believes your coming here is a blessing."

"I don't think my being led here is an accident either-it is better than I hoped for, especially for Cosette," Fantine replied as she wrung her hands.

Sister Perpetue nodded. "Well thank God for it. We begin work at dawn tomorrow. Good night, Fantine. Good night Cosette," she said before quitting the room.

As the door closed, Cosette looked up at her mother. "Maman? We stay here?"

"Yes. This is home now darling," Fantine said, scooping her up and setting her on the bed to remove her shoes. "We both have to be good so we can remain here."

Cosette nodded trustingly as she sucked her thumb. Fantine helped her kick off her little shoes and then looked around the tiny room. It was hardly a place of her own, but it was a roof over her head, and a start of something.

Yes, they could try to be happy here.

It was not an easy life, but it held joys enough. Fantine would rise at dawn and begin sweeping the ward and airing the room while the nuns attended their morning prayers. After this, Sister Perpetue made breakfast for everyone; usually by this time Cosette would be awake and would be trailing after her or after her mother. Sister Simplice in the meantime saw to the restocking of the dispensary, or summoned the parish priest to hear confessions or minister to the dying. By seven in the morning the infirmary doors would be opened, and the place would soon be bustling with people seeking medical attention or visiting ill friends and neighbours. Fantine repaired linen and made bandages, helped move and wash patients, and ran errands for the nuns. The infirmary only closed after vespers, and only then would their little household sit down to its evening meal before retiring for the evening. There was no shortage of things to do, and thus there were few opportunities for Fantine to think back on Tholomyes, her former companions, or almost anything to do with what she had left behind in Paris. Yet there were still a few times, in the deepest watches of the night, that she dreamed she was being serenaded with a soft voice singing to the languid strains of a Spanish guitar.

As for Cosette, she flourished and grew merry. In Paris she'd known only her mother; here in Montreuil-sur-mer there were children her age to run about with. Sister Perpetue loved her chatter when they went about the kitchen together, and Sister Simplice delighted in teaching her simple prayers and catechism. Cosette often played little pranks on Fantine, chattered with the infirmary's inmates, and listened to M. Madeleine whenever he happened to visit the hospital.

Once, towards December of that year, M. Madeleine brought a simple book of drawings and words for the other children in the infirmary. Cosette had listened to him silently, eyes wide as if taking in everything he said. When he was about to take his leave, she walked up to him. "What's there?" she asked, pointing to the book.

"It's a book for children," M. Madeleine said.

Cosette frowned. "Not praying?" she asked. Sister Simplice's prayer book was the only volume to be found in this place.

"It's about something else," M. Madeleine said.

Fantine, who'd been passing by with some linen, looked on curiously. "What is in the book Monsieur?"

"Stories of the folk here," M. Madeleine answered.

Cosette's eyes went round at the mention of stories. "I want one!"

"You're meant to read them, or maybe have someone read them to you," M. Madeleine replied.

Fantine blushed hard on seeing the eager, almost pleading look that Cosette gave her. ' _If only I could,'_ she thought ashamedly. "Maybe Sister Simplice or Sister Perpetue can read to you after vespers," she suggested kindly.

It was enough impetus for Cosette to take the book from M. Madeleine and thank him effusively before running off to show Sister Perpetue her new prize. Fantine winced before looking at the mayor, who now had a thoughtful air about him. "I only know how to write my name," she explained. "Once Cosette starts school, she will know better than I will!"

"It isn't too late for you, Mademoiselle," M. Madeline said.

Fantine laughed. "At my age, learning to read!" The idea was incredulous, almost too fantastical. M. Madeleine simply sighed before taking his leave. That night, when Cosette was asleep, Fantine opened a page of the book to try to make sense of the letters printed beside pictures of familiar objects such as an apple, a cat, a house, and the sun.

Time passed, marked with this slow but steady progress. Cosette grew and Fantine mused, and before long nearly two years had elapsed.

It was then that this peace was broken by an otherwise unremarkable instance. One afternoon, Fantine was busying herself with a basket of bandages, and had left Cosette to run about and play, provided she did not wake any of the patients in the infirmary. In the midst of cutting and folding the linen, Fantine suddenly heard an indignant yell from the passage followed by her child's scream. She jumped up from her seat and ran into the next room, and found Cosette quavering on the floor, clutching her reddened cheek. Looming over her was an indignant crone, one hand still clutching her rosary while the other was poised to strike the little girl again.

"Leave her alone!" Fantine shouted, pushing back the woman before scooping up Cosette. "How dare you hit her!"

"This little brat has no respect for her elders. Imagine, interrupting my prayers-" the woman retorted.

"She's a child, she certainly didn't mean it!" Fantine shot back. Her rage only heightened on seeing how red her daughter's cheek was; without a doubt the red handprint there would certainly turn into a bruise. "Just see what you've done!"

"If you kept better watch on her, I wouldn't have to discipline her," the woman snapped.

"I don't care what you mean to do or say, but no one ever hits my child," Fantine said furiously.

Suddenly the door to the nuns' apartment opened. "Why what's the commotion?" Sister Simplice asked. Her eyes were startled, then worried as she took in the scene. "She's not hurt, is she?" she asked Fantine.

"Only a bruise," Fantine said through gritted teeth.

Sister Simplice nodded with the serenity of someone who already knew what to do in this terse conflict. "Cosette, I think Sister Perpetue has tartlets she wants you to try. She's in the kitchen," she said. She turned to look at the crone. "Madame Victurnien, I believe Monsieur the Mayor is still at his previous appointment. He hasn't been here to visit yet."

Madame Victurnien's expression soured further. "There is an urgent matter in the workroom. Where is he now?"

"Maybe he is at his office," Sister Simplice said, stepping aside to let Cosette flee into the kitchen.

Madame Victurnien chewed the inside of her cheek. "Thank you Sister Simplice," she said before stalking out of the infirmary.

Fantine crossed her arms and shook her head as the door shut. "I cannot believe it!" she whispered indignantly. "Cosette didn't mean any harm and she hit her!"

Sister Simplice sighed deeply. "Madame Victurnien has had much to worry about since her neighbor is ill and she is the only one around to watch. God grant her peace of mind." She motioned for Fantine to sit before picking up some linen and beginning to fold it. "Though I advise you stay out of the way; there is no use in provoking another's anger."

"How could you stand to be around her? I wouldn't do it for a million francs," Fantine muttered.

"Nor would I, but for Him I would," Sister Simplice said, gesturing briefly to the heavens. For a long while the two women worked in an amiable silence, until a knock sounded on the infirmary door. The nun got to her feet and opened it. "Ah Monsieur Madeleine! Madame Victurnien was here a little while ago, looking for you," she greeted.

"Yes, I have spoken to her," the mayor said. He nodded to a man standing next to him. "I am only giving a brief tour to our recently arrived Inspector."

By this time Fantine had gotten to her feet, but she found herself taking a slight step back at the mere sight of the inspector. He was lofty and grim, with whiskers and a long face that did not do much to inspire anyone's confidence. The contrast between him and the mayor was like that of a dark place just adjacent to a soft glow from a lamp. "Good afternoon and welcome to Montreuil-sur-mer, Monsieur Inspector-" she greeted.

The man cut her off with a shake of his head followed by something of a grin,. His smile would have been cordial had it ever managed to reach his eyes. "Madame, the name is Inspector Javert."


	4. Chapter 4: Providence and Inquiry

**Chapter 4: Providence and Inquiry**

It turned out that it was not only Fantine who stepped back from Javert's mere presence. Much of the town gave him a wide berth, partly owing to the nature of his office and partly owing to his bearing. "Maman, why is the Inspector scarier than the bad men?" Cosette asked one day as she and Fantine were hurrying back from the market.

Fantine was agog at this question even as she took Cosette's hand to keep her from tripping in a deep gutter at the entrance of an alley they used as a shortcut to get back to their home. "Cosette, it's not nice to ask such things!"

"Maman, I'm afraid," Cosette said in a small voice. "When the other children see him they run away."

"You're not a bad girl, so he'll never come after you," Fantine said firmly, unwilling to provide any unkind comment on the inspector's physiognomy. ' _He can't help looking that way, no more than Felix could help being bald,'_ the thought occurred to her. The unbidden memory of her former lover was a sharp pinprick, and she felt her breath catch in her throat for a moment.

Cosette tugged her skirt. "Maman?"

"I'm fine, Cosette," Fantine said, swiping at her eyes. At that very moment a shout followed by a dreadful rumble came from up the street. Fantine swiftly pushed Cosette aside before jumping out of the way, falling hard against the curb a split second before a cart veered through the alley before tumbling down with a dreadful crash at the end of the street.

Fantine winced at the raw pain that blossomed in her elbows and her shins from her attempt to break her fall. Next to her, Cosette jumped to her feet. "Maman, there's someone under the cart!" the little girl shouted, pointing to where a crowd was already flocking around the broken vehicle.

"Oh God, no," Fantine whispered as she stood up and checked herself over; her skirt and one sleeve were torn and her clothes were streaked with mud. She saw that the cart had crashed into an unpaved spot of the road, and was slowly sinking into the mire. ' _That man underneath will be crushed!"_ she realized, shuddering with horror both at this sight and at the pitiful shrieks of the horse that had been drawing the cart; the poor animal could not rise owing to its broken legs. As she and Cosette ran towards this scene, she caught sight of Inspector Javert hurriedly conferring with M. Madeleine. The mayor was seen to pale for a brief moment at something that Javert said, but in a flash he was under the cart, despite the shocked and concerned shouts of the bystanders.

"Someone get him out of there! He's going to be crushed too!" an old woman shrieked from nearby.

" _What is he doing? He can't lift it from under there!"_  Fantine thought, finding herself unable to speak or call to M. Madeleine. A frightening silence reigned over all, as if the slightest effort would send the wreck tumbling to crush the men under it. Yet suddenly the cart was seen to shake and rise from the mud, raised excruciatingly on the shoulders of M. Madeleine. At this sight most of the bystanders rushed to help him lift the cart the rest of the way, while Fantine assisted two men in extricating the cart's unfortunate driver from under the wreck.

"Poor, poor Father Fauchelevent," one of the men said. "Getting back on that crutch will be the least of his problems, just look at his poor horse."

' _At least he's alive!"_ Fantine wanted to retort even as she cautiously looked over the injured man, who'd half-swooned with pain and shock. "We have to bring him to the infirmary. It's not far off," she said. She looked to M. Madeleine, who was wiping his sweaty brow. "Monsieur Madeleine, are you well?"

The mayor nodded with visible relief. "See to him and tell Sister Simplice what happened. I'll handle matters here," he told her.

Cosette looked on with trepidation. "Maman, will he live?"

"He will, my love. Now run ahead home and tell Sister Simplice or Sister Perpetue to set out a bed and fetch the doctor," Fantine said. She saw Javert watching this scene with an unreadable look on his face, almost as if he was sinking into some dire reverie. ' _Is he well too?'_ she couldn't help wondering even as she helped bring the almost senseless Fauchelevent to the infirmary. Much to her relief the nuns were already expecting them, and in short order Fauchelevent was brought to a quiet bed.

When the doctor arrived, he found that Fauchelevent had a dislocated kneecap as well as a number of cuts and scrapes. "There is no peril to his life. However it is likely that he will never be able to use that leg of his properly again," he told Sister Perpetue and Fantine, who were tending to the injured man while Sister Simplice was giving Cosette a catechism lesson.

"He will walk again, will he?" Sister Perpetue asked.

"Yes, but it may be very limited. The knee may always remain somewhat frozen and may pain him somewhat," the doctor said grimly. "I only say 'may' and not 'will', there have been inexplicable cures even with such grievous bone injuries. In the meantime it is imperative to keep the knee straight and still to prevent the swelling of the knee. I may have to bleed the joint if the swelling persists the day after tomorrow."

Sister Perpetue crossed herself. "Good God spare him!"

From the bed, Fauchelevent groaned by way of awakening before making an effort to sit up. "I am more thankful that it was not my ribs that were cracked, or that would have ended me in a moment," he said sharply to Sister Perpetue.

"Monsieur, you mustn't move about so, the doctor said to keep the knee straight," Fantine said worriedly from where she was preparing to bandage his injured limb.

"And what of the rest of me?" Fauchelevent griped before checking himself. He cleared his throat before smiling more kindly at Fantine. "Thank you for bringing me here, Mademoiselle..."

"Fantine," the young woman said.

"Ah, but must you always be named for a child? I had thought you'd have a fine name like Hyacinthe," he teased gently. He looked around the infirmary. "Where is Monsieur Madeleine?"

"He said he had something to arrange outside," Fantine said. In the flurry and rush of tending to the patient, they had all quite forgotten the benefactor. ' _Perhaps he'll be along soon,'_ she thought as she finished bandaging Fauchelevent's leg and then headed to the dispensary to fetch a bottle of physic.

Much to her discomfiture she found Madame Victurnien there, apparently accompanying a frail girl from the factory. The crone looked Fantine over from head to toe. "Are you a relative of Father Fauchelevent?" she asked."It's surprising you are so solicitous to him."

"It is what I have to do for work here," Fantine replied as she retrieved the bottle. She frowned as she tried to recall a Scripture passage she'd heard the local priest say once about a servant not needing any praise for doing a good deed, but somehow the words just wouldn't come to mind. "I'd do the same for anyone else," she added when she realized Madame Victurnien was still watching her.

The older woman nodded haughtily. "Well do you have any kin then? What of your daughter's father?"

"He is gone," Fantine answered in a clipped tone.

"Where?" Madame Victurnien challenged. "I know you weren't married."

"What is it to you, Madame?" Fantine asked, setting down the bottle before she could inadvertently drop it; she could already feel her hands shaking with an unbidden anger. It was all she could do not to bite back with what she had learned too from working at the dispensary. ' _She had a monk for a lover, and somehow everyone here knows it,'_ she thought.

"You say you were born in this town, but there is no record of your baptism in the church," Madame Victurnien said haughtily, apparently heedless of the rage in Fantine's look. "One must be christened to be wedded."

Fantine felt her cheeks burn with shame and she lowered her eyes. "How could I be baptized if I am an orphan?" she asked weakly.

Madame Victurnien chuckled condescendingly. "You poor girl. You'd better watch your step now; you know that dishonesty is not allowed, especially by the mayor."

"I have never lied about anything, Madame!" Fantine shot back.

"We shall see," the matron pronounced before sweeping out of the dispensary.

Fantine had to take a few deep breaths to calm down before she snatched up the bottle of physic and ran back to the infirmary. As she entered she found Cosette and M. Madeleine standing by Fauchelevent's bedside. The mayor signalled for the child to be quiet even as he put an envelope on the bedside table.

"He'll live, but there's that leg of his," Fantine said as she stole up to them.

M. Madeleine nodded. "The doctor told me." He eyed the bottle in her hand. "Are you going to give him a dose?"

"When he wakes," Fantine said. "It was a good thing you came by to help. But how could you have lifted that entire cart on your back?"

The mayor's eyes seemed to grow dark, as if troubled. "I learned while I was living elsewhere," he said in a low voice, as if he was thinking of something far off. He shut his eyes for a moment before looking at Fantine again. "Please ensure he gets this. Thank you for your help, Mademoiselle Fantine," he said more graciously before he took his leave.

Cosette stared after him as he closed the door behind him. "Maman, it's a gift for the old man," she whispered. "Something about so many francs?"

Now completely startled, Fantine picked up the envelope and felt the distinct thinness and shape of a bank note. ' _What sort of a man is he?"_ she wondered. Who else now had a secret in Montreuil-sur-mer?


	5. Chapter 5: The Accused

**Chapter 5: The Accused**

Unfortunately for Fantine's curiosity, it was all too easily banished by pressing matters. Just as the doctor had predicted, Father Fauchelevent's knee remained stiff regardless of whatever rubs, exercises and prayers the joint was subjected to. That was his only lingering malady since what ill will he harboured towards M. Madeleine had vanished, especially since the mayor had helped him find a new situation at a convent in Paris. "Were it not for the fact that a man should have a place, I should hate to leave this town of good people," he had said the evening before he departed for the city. "A pity I should find such caring all too late!"

Fantine had only smiled at this opinion, for regardless of the good cheer in the infirmary, she still could not shake the gathering feeling of gloom. "I wish you well then in Paris. It is a good place for some to start anew," she had simply said as she helped him pack his belongings. This was, as far as she was concerned, not a lie. That had been true for her for some years of her life after all.

It was on a February day not long after Fauchelevent's departure, that Fantine's foreboding came into full bloom. At about ten in the morning, while she was sewing in the infirmary, Sister Perpetue rushed in agitatedly clutching a sheet of paper. "Fantine, can you spare a moment?" the poor nun asked breathlessly. "This letter has to be noted by Monsieur the Mayor right away; the abbess needs it as soon as she can."

Fantine, knowing better than to inquire, got to her feet. "Will he be at his office now?"

"Perhaps. You know he doesn't go to the factory till afternoons," Sister Perpetue said distractedly.

Fantine took off her rather worn apron and smoothed down her dress, feeling slightly thankful that she'd chosen to don a new blue dress instead of her old pink one. ' _It would be horrifying to talk of official things when wearing such an old thing,'_ she thought as she made her way to the mayor's office in the town hall.

When she arrived there, the door was closed tightly but she could hear the distinct murmur of confidential conversation. ' _What does the Inspector have to do today with the Mayor?'_ she wondered even as she stayed away from the door lest she be taken for eavesdropping. After a few moments Javert exited the office, his brow knitted deep in thought and with his hat under his arm. Fantine did not hear if he greeted her or not, but instead she steeled herself to knock on the door.

M. Madeleine himself opened the door. "Ah Mademoiselle Fantine. Can I help you?"

Fantine managed a quick curtsy before bringing the letter out of her pocket. "It's from the abbess of the sisters. It has to be read right away."

M. Madeleine quickly opened the note and surveyed its contents before bidding Fantine to follow him into his office. For a moment Fantine was awestruck for she had been half-expecting to be welcomed into a stuffy, forbidding space reeking of antiquity and grandeur with large tapers and imposing furniture. To her surprise, the room was spare, with only a simple desk, bookshelves and the roughest of chairs. There was nothing grand or characteristic about this room. "Monsieur Madeleine?" she asked concernedly as the man went to his desk to write.

"I'll speak to the abbess," M. Madeleine said distractedly. He brought another document out of his desk. "There is much I must do. If it will not be too much trouble, Mademoiselle, could you please give this to the foreman at the factory?"

"I can," Fantine said. After all she would pass by the workshop en route back to the infirmary. "Monsieur Madeleine, are you well?"

"I am only preoccupied," the mayor said cordially. "Thank you, Mademoiselle."

' _Has the Inspector done something to upset him again?'_ she wondered before quickly rushing off to the workshop. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw M. Madeleine walking off in the general direction of M. Scaufflaire's house, not far off. She was met at her destination by a friendly porter, who immediately pointed out the foreman to her. As she silently made her way through the workroom towards the man walking past the workstations, she could hear whispers and giggles as one woman after another looked up from her workbench and followed her with her eyes.

The foreman eyed her with disdain. "Why did the mayor send you?" he sneered as he received the document. "I was expecting him to come himself."

"He's busy," Fantine blurted out, but in a moment she realized her mistake, for now every eye in the hall was upon her. She looked down quickly if only to avoid the foreman's scrutinizing gaze. "I'm sorry for the interruption, Monsieur," she said before backing out of the workroom.

As she reached the door, a plump hand seized her wrist. "A tramp like you had better watch out," one of the matrons of the workroom hissed before shoving her out of the workroom. "The mayor's name can only do so much for your kind."

Fantine winced as she felt the sting of where this woman's nails had nearly broken through her skin. She tried to find the words to protest this accusation, but she could not feel even her own breath on her lips. At that moment it was as if a vise had suddenly gripped her chest, and the only way she could get free was to run. Her head spun as she willed her feet to move, but one effort soon led to another and before she knew it she was standing at the door of the infirmary.

When she stepped in, Sister Perpetue was on the stairs but now she dropped an entire armful of linen and ran to Fantine. "Fantine, what has happened? You're as pale as a ghost!" she asked, catching the swaying woman in her arms.

"I only need to rest," Fantine said, now recovering her breath. "I'm fine, truly," she added. Inasmuch as she wished to speak of what had transpired, she did not trust the walls and half open doors of the infirmary. Somehow her tale would return to the factory, and certainly to Madame Victurnien. ' _One word from her, and I can never set foot anywhere again,'_ she realized.

Yet despite this, Fantine still endeavoured to be gay and keep up her chatter, if only to ally not only her friends' suspicions but even Cosette's. The rest of the day passed swiftly and without any more incidents. It was about six in the evening when at last Sister Simplice noted something singular. "Why, the Mayor hasn't been in here all day," she said at dinner.

"He's thinking a lot, Sister," Cosette chimed in. "I saw him walking like he's dreaming or thinking very, very hard."

Fantine said nothing, but recalled only what she had seen in the office earlier that day. "He has a lot to do," she said almost flippantly. After all why else would he have been speaking to Javert?

"The scary Inspector is going. I saw him talking to the diligence man," Cosette said.

"Oh child, don't go poking where you shouldn't," Sister Perpetue scolded her affectionately.

"Is he going to chase a bad man elsewhere, Maman?" Cosette asked Fantine.

"Maybe, or he's off to visit someone important. Inspectors sometimes do that," Fantine replied. After all back in Paris, she'd occasionally seen the Prefect and some of his men making official calls at various places within the Latin Quartier. Yet as amusing as Cosette's questioning was, it only served to fuel Fantine's disquiet. ' _Does she know things now too?'_ she wondered silently later that night as she lay awake and watched her daughter sleep, seemingly untroubled by the shadows growing around them.

Fantine did not know how long she tossed and turned, but eventually this exercise grew tiresome and she went to the window of her garret. The street was silent save for the two lights of a tilbury making its way down the lane. ' _Who could be travelling so early?'_ she wondered as she caught up a shawl and drew it around her shoulders for warmth. She sat for a few minutes, watching the carriage draw further and further away into the gloom before carefully adjusting the blankets around Cosette and hurrying downstairs to begin seeing to her chores.

Such was the calm before the storm. Fantine's outward gaiety had almost become something more inward by mid-afternoon, and she could feel her spirits lifting. She now sang as she worked, allowing herself to fall into reverie.  _'By the light of the moon, My friend Pierrot, Lend me your pen_...' she sang over the sound of two harsh knocks at the door. She looked around and saw that both nuns were at work, so she got to her feet and went to the door.

She froze on seeing one of the policemen there, accompanied by some women she recognized from the factory. "There! She's the thief!" one of the workers screeched.

The policeman glared at her and signed for her to be quiet. "Are you Mademoiselle Fantine?" he asked more respectfully.

Fantine nodded even as she felt her hands tighten on the doorway. "What's happened?"

"There's been an incident at the workshop. You must come immediately to the police station," the policeman said.

Fantine's jaw dropped as she realized what was going on. "Monsieur, I was at the factory yesterday on an errand, but I did not take anything. I did not even touch anything," she said, fighting to keep her voice level. "Monsieur, you have to believe me, I'm not a thief!"

"That's what they all say," another woman jeered. "Take her now, Monsieur, before she causes a ruckus," she said to the constable.

The policeman looked at Fantine almost regretfully. "Mademoiselle, please. We cannot have a scene here," he said.

Fantine cast an anguished glance at the clock; at any moment, her daughter would be returning from another day at school. Her gaze met Sister Perpetue's horrified one. "If Cosette asks, tell her I've only gone out. I'll be back soon," she begged.

"But Fantine-" the nun began.

"Please! She mustn't know till someone can come to help," Fantine insisted over the murmurs coming from the doorway. ' _Please let her tell Monsieur Madeleine where I am,'_ she thought.

Sister Perpetue now finally managed a nod. "Go then, before she sees."

"Thank you, Sister," Fantine whispered before stepping outside and bowing her head as she followed the constable through the crowd.


	6. Chapter 6

### Chapter 6: The Pruner from Faverolles

Even if Fantine kept her gaze fixed on her feet all the way to the police station, she still felt stripped and bare under every scornful glance thrown her way. 'What sorts of things might they be saying to each other now?' she wondered frantically as she tried to keep up with the police officer escorting her. Everything was now a fog before her eyes, which were now hot with the tears she did not dare to show to anyone. At times she felt as if she would collapse right there in the street but she willed herself to walk on, at least till the door of the police station.

For a moment she feared that she would see the formidable Inspector at the desk, but she saw only a bored seargent waiting in the station. "Monsieur, I do not know what they have brought me in for. I'm sure it must be some mistake. You have to believe me," she greeted breathlessly.

The seargent blinked blearily at her. "What is going on?"

"This woman was said to be in the factory yesterday, right when the money purse went missing," the arresting officer reported. "The other workers pointed her out."

Fantine felt her legs shake at this accusation and she clutched at the wall for support. "It's not true! I was at the factory yesterday but only to give a message!"

The seargent rifled through a pile of papers on his desk. "I have a statement here from the overseers that you were meddling in the workroom, and that you disrupted the flow of work and made off with the purse that had been with the foreman."

Fantine shook her head. "It's not true. They all saw me talking to the foreman of that shift, but that was all I did. Where did they get such an idea?"

"Is there anyone else who can vouch for your whereabouts and actions, Mademoiselle?" the arresting constable questioned firmly.

"Monsieur Madeleine was the one who gave me the message for the foreman," Fantine replied. "He can tell you I didn't do anything wrong."

"Why would he entrust you with such a task?" the seargent sneered. "Monsieur the Mayor is seeing to an important errand out of town today. You will simply have to wait here, Mademoiselle, the whole night if need be."

It was only now that Fantine's strength gave out thoroughly and she sank to the floor, huddling with her knees to her chest in order to hide her face. The idea of not being able leave on time, of having her daughter hear that she was taken away by the police, and of passing a sleepless night in this cold jailhouse was all too much for her to bear. _'And when I get out, what will people say? Everyone will know for sure I've been here,'_ she realized with horror and revulsion. The crowd that had accosted her at the factory and then at the infirmary now seemed to her to be akin to a pack of wolves eager to pounce and rip her from limb to limb.

It was at that moment that the station house door opened and the seargent at the desk rose to his feet. "Monsieur Inspector," he greeted the newcomer respectfully.

Fantine looked up even as she felt her limbs trembling, and it was with a great effort that she found herself on her feet. "Monsieur Inspector, I'm sorry to trouble you after your journey," she said as she managed a shaky curtsy. "Someone has played a dreadful trick on me, and wants me locked up though I did nothing. You have to let me go right away."

Javert's eyes were hooded as he regarded Fantine first, then the statement that the seargent handed to him. "Dismiss the crowd outside," he ordered the other men in the station. "There are many who are speaking against you, Mademoiselle," he said gravely to Fantine.

"I do not know what I did to make them talk that way about me," Fantine gasped, almost afraid now that her next words would leave her throat as a sob. "Monsieur Inspector, I have tried to be a good woman. I have not done anything to hurt anyone even if sometimes they try to vex me. I do not gossip, I do not even know what they are about. I'm not a thief, I swear it."

"Have you any proof in your favour?" Javert inquired harshly.

"Monsieur, you do not believe me? Oh you must!" Fantine begged. She threw herself at his feet and clasped his hands. "I cannot stay the night here. My daughter, you've seen her, will be asking for me. And what are the good sisters to tell her?"

Javert backed away from her. "Compose yourself, Mademoiselle. You are facing a very serious charge here and have had little to say for yourself so far." He turned to a constable just entering the station. "Please conduct Mademoiselle to her cell, where she will stay till this inquiry is resolved."

Fantine fell back so she was resting on her haunches, and buried her face in her hands to stifle her sobs for fear they would be heard outside the station. "Oh God! Oh God! What to do now?" she wept. She cringed as she heard the station door opening again and curled up on the floor.

Javert looked up sharply at this interruption but he bowed respectfully when he saw who was there. "Good afternoon Sister Perpetue."

The nun was red in the face, both from running and from the winter chill. "I have a letter from Monsieur the Mayor. He says that Fantine did nothing wrong and that she has to be released this minute," she said, thrusting a folded note into Javert's face.

Javert silently read the missive and put it down on the desk along with the other papers. He wrote down a quick note and folded it. "Constable, please bring this to the foreman at the factory. Make it clear to him he is to comply, otherwise I will have to take further action against him." He looked sternly at Fantine. "Go home, Mademoiselle."

Fantine shakily stood up and held on to Sister Perpetue's arm for support. "I thought that Monsieur Madeleine was away?" she asked in a shaky undertone.

"He only just arrived," Sister Perpetue explained as she gently led Fantine out of the police station. "They weren't rough on you?"

Fantine shook her head. "Where's Cosette?"

"With Sister Simplice," the nun replied.

"Thank you," Fantine murmured, now feeling at last that she could breathe. However when she looked about, she saw that there was a crowd waiting for her and Sister Perpetue. She clutched at the nun's arm. "What are we going to do?"

Sister Perpetue patted Fantine's hand before squaring her shoulders and going before the crowd. "The inspector already told all of you to go home. It's almost supper," she said.

"Step away from that hussy, Sister," Madame Victurnien, the only bold one in this group, spoke up.

Sister Perpetue shook her head. "We're going home."

Madame Victurnien's scowl soured further at the nun, but it was evident she would not dare to strike in front of this presence. "I do not know what she did to the inspector and his men, but it will not work on us," she said, casting a venomous look on Fantine. It was evident that she had been humiliated by the mayor's intervention, and she would not be gainsaid.

"If she tries it again, we will not be so kind to her or to the little girl either," another woman threatened.

"Don't you dare hurt my child," Fantine shouted as she stepped forward.

"What, you will tell the Mayor? I am not so sure he'll defend you now, if he knew what a liar and thief you are," Madame Victurnien taunted. She looked about and paled as she realized that the constables had followed Fantine and were now surrounding the mob. "You watch your step."

"I will," Fantine managed to say as the crowd began to move away, most of them silent but others still hissing imprecations. It was becoming clearer to her now that there was only one recourse left for her and Cosette. "We cannot stay," she said to Sister Perpetue.

"Yes, we must hurry back home. It's going to be a cold night," Sister Perpetue said.

Fantine shook her head. "Cosette and I can't stay in this town any longer."

Sister Perpetue paled. "Why?"

"You heard them. I may be safe today, but they'll come up with something else tomorrow, or sometime soon. Why must they be so horrid?" Fantine asked, struggling not to cry. "I'm an honest woman."

"I know."

"And I didn't do anything wrong."

Sister Perpetue sighed. "Who knows where malice comes from? It will all look better in the morning, Fantine. Besides, think. Where will you and Cosette go?"

"Someplace where we shan't be known. Maybe I will simply say I'm a widow," Fantine said. "Anywhere. Maybe even back to Paris. It's been some years now."

The nun nodded gravely. "I wish you wouldn't."

"You know I must."

"At the very least, inform Monsieur the Mayor. If you are so set on this, he will help you, even write you a recommendation for you and Cosette. He will make sure you are provided for."

Fantine nodded, seeing the wisdom in these words. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Thank you," she murmured before setting off for Monsieur Madeleine's house, which was not far from the infirmary proper. She saw from the street that there was a light in one of the upstairs chambers, and so she hastened her steps. The portress was mysteriously absent from her post, but Fantine thought nothing of it and went straight to the second floor. "Monsieur Madeleine!" she called, knocking on the first closed door she found.

The door opened a crack. "Fantine? You shouldn't be here," the mayor greeted in a hollow one.

"Yes, but I need to speak with you right away," Fantine insisted as she threw the door open. She gasped when she saw M. Madeleine's face. "Oh good God! What has happened to you?" The man's gray hair was now as white as snow.

M. Madeleine sighed grimly. "Yes, it was not this way a few hours ago."

"Are you ill?" Fantine asked. "You were acting so oddly yesterday."

The mayor shook his head. "You must go."

Fantine swallowed hard before making a final effort; in her fright she quite failed to notice that M. Madeleine's eyes were dark and troubled despite his calm. "Monsieur Madeleine, I wish I didn't have to, but Cosette and I must leave Montreuil-sur-mer," she said.

M. Madeleine started. "Leave! Why?"

"Madame Victurnien and all the women..." Fantine trailed off as she tried to quell the harrowing memories of the past few hours. "I fear for my child's life. She is no safer here than she would be if we stayed in Paris."

M. Madeleine shook his head. "I will make sure someone will speak to her. The foreman-"

"He was part of it too," Fantine said. "Monsieur, you have been very, very kind to me and my daughter. I wish I could stay and still be of help to you and the sisters, but I can't. But could you please help me one last time still?"

M. Madeleine smiled at her sadly. "How then, can I help you?"

"Is there a place that Cosette and I can go?" Fantine asked. "Surely you must know some place; you're the mayor after all."

The man seemed stricken by these words. "Fantine, you do not look on a mayor, but on a man condemned, and rightfully so."

"Condemned? For what?" Fantine asked. She could see now that M. Madeleine had been putting his room in order, and had laid some items out on a table. "You, a saint!"

"A thief and a convict," M. Madeleine corrected. "I did a wrong thing many, many years ago, and now I must pay rightfully for it."

"In prison?"

"In the galleys. Fantine, you must go now!"

Fantine almost shrieked at the mention of that horror known as the galleys, but a sudden resolve took hold of her and instead she clasped M. Madeleine's wrist. "Then you must come with me and Cosette."

"Impossible. I would only endanger you both."

"You asked how you can help me, and I ask that you do not let us travel alone."

"The police will arrest you as well if they see you with me. What then will become of Cosette?" M. Madeleine asked gently.

Fantine shook her head, unwilling to dwell on this possibility. "What will become of us if we are to face this winter alone?" She saw M. Madeleine's look grow grave at this question. "We plan to go far away, maybe as far as Paris, maybe even further. No one can find you there."

M. Madeleine looked down, as if something had finally broken him or as if he was considering some grave possibility. "I will see you and Cosette to safety, that much at least I can do before I must give myself up." He cast a glance over his shoulder at the things in his room before quickly going in to snatch up a bundle that had been lying to one side. "We must go right away."

"Thank you Monsieur Madeleine!" Fantine said quickly but she regretted it almost instantly on seeing the mayor flinch at that name. They silently made their way to the infirmary, where they found Cosette waiting at the doorstep.

The little girl let out a cry and ran into Fantine's arms. "Maman! The people were saying you weren't coming back!" she sobbed.

Fantine looked at Sister Perpetue and Sister Simplice. "Who said that?"

"Some of the patients' relatives," Sister Simplice replied sadly. "Fantine, may I please ask you to stay?"

At that moment Fantine almost relented, but one look at Cosette's pale frightened face only strengthened her resolve. "Were I alone, I would be strong and bear it, but my child cannot. "

Cosette looked at Fantine curiously. "Maman? What is happening?"

Fantine crouched so that she was eye level with her child. "We have to live elsewhere, Cosette. We will be leaving this town right away."

Cosette's eyes went wide. "Maman! Why?"

"Please, don't ask and just do as I say," Fantine whispered sternly as she hurried to the garret to begin packing their few belongings. By this time Cosette's dresses were much larger than those she had on arriving in Montreuil-sur-mer, and it took a fair bit of work for Fantine to make these things fit in her lone carpetbag. She put on some of her own clothes in layers in order to save as many items as possible, but nevertheless she still had to leave one of her good dresses behind.

Cosette watched these preparations silently for a little while. "Maman, can I bring this?" she begged, holding the book that M. Madeleine had given her.

"Oh!" Fantine cried as she grabbed the book. _'Is there still room for it?'_ she wondered, knowing that it would break Cosette's heart to leave it behind. Much to her relief she found that she could just squeeze the book in between some of their clothes.

Just as she was helping Cosette put on a cape over her clothing, she heard a pounding on the infirmary door. 'The police!' Fantine realized, fearful now not only for herself and for Cosette, but for M. Madeleine. She blew out the candle in the garret and tiptoed to where she could push the door open a crack. From where she stood she could see M. Madeleine in a dark corner behind the door; from elsewhere in the room he was not so easily espied. Sister Simplice was kneeling at her prie-de-dieu, clutching a rosary to her forehead.

Cosette wriggled under Fantine's arm to take a look and let out a little gasp. "Maman, the Inspector!"

"Shhh, Cosette!" Fantine whispered, hardly daring even to breathe. She saw Javert in the doorway, his face stern and almost imperious as he surveyed the room. _'Don't let him come nearer, don't let him see!'_ Fantine prayed silently. One wrong move, one cough, or even one breath would doom them all.

Javert stood for a long moment as he looked at Sister Simplice. "Sister, are you alone in this room?"

Sister Simplice looked up calmly from her prie-de-dieu. "Yes."

Javert nodded. "Then, I must ask only out of duty Sister, have you seen this evening a man—his name is Jean Valjean? Has he been in the infirmary this evening?"

Sister Simplice's voice was solemn. "No."

Javert made a deep bow. "Pardon me," he said before stepping back and closing the door.

Up in the garret, Fantine fell against the door, not trusting herself to move after witnessing such a terrible scene. At last she grabbed her carpetbag and hurried downstairs to where Sister Simplice was now bowed over her prie-de-dieu. "Oh Sister..." she whispered almost in disbelief.

The nun's face was white but she managed a smile. "It was that or the worse sin."

Fantine warily looked to the man standing in the corner and met his stricken expression. She had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from calling him "Monsieur Madeleine", for she already knew that in a matter of hours he would be dead to many of those who had once revered him. "Monsieur?" she asked.

He looked down. "No, not that. I am only a pruner from Faverolles."

Fantine nodded, though the name of the village was unfamiliar to her. "I am only an urchin who's fallen in a bad way." She glanced at Cosette, who was watching them both with a pensive look. "This never was home for any of us."

The man nodded gravely. "You and Cosette must go soon."

"And you should come along before the police will return."

Sister Simplice got to her feet. "I will make sure your instructions will get to the cure," she said to the man who had been called Monsieur Madeleine. She dabbed at her eyes. "May God protect the three of you, wherever you may go."

Fantine smiled bravely before looking to where Cosette was now tearfully clutching at Sister Perpetue, and then at their mysterious companion. "Will we meet again? I'm sure we must."

"If God wills it," Sister Simplice said. "Go now before someone returns."

Fantine nodded before shouldering her carpetbag. "Come, Cosette," she said, holding out her hand. She took a deep breath as Cosette's little hand closed around hers, before they followed Jean Valjean out into the forbidding night.


	7. Chapter 7: The Travelers in the Woods

**Chapter 7: The Travelers in the Woods**

Owing to the haste of flight and the dangers of the night, there was no room in Fantine's mind for any questions or even the slightest hint of doubt. The only thought was to make sure that she and her companions could get as far away as possible from Montreuil-sur-mer and anyone who would be searching for them. It was only when they stopped to rest and she caught sight of the first pale rays of dawn that she realized the possible folly of what she had just agreed to. She looked to where Cosette was asleep, using the carpetbag as a pillow and her cape as a mattress. _'My daughter and I on the run, and fleeing with a former convict!'_ she thought as she trained her gaze on the man standing at the roadside, looking up and down for any sign of trouble.

Yet all the same, this was the man who had helped her time and again, and was still on her side. She took a few deep breaths to summon her courage before stepping over to him. "Monsieur Valjean?" she asked tentatively.

Jean Valjean turned quickly, as if startled, before realizing who had spoken to him. "Mademoiselle Fantine. Is there anything you need?"

"Nothing. You shouldn't call me Mademoiselle though, Fantine said, feeling embarrassed at this little courtesy. A thousand questions were leaping in her mind, and it was a few more moments till she could settle on one. "Where exactly is Faverolles?"

"In the region of Brie. It is quite a long way from here," Jean Valjean answered. He tightened his grip around his walking stick, which was actually just part of a broken bough that he had found in the night. "I have nothing to return to there."

"No family whatsoever?" Fantine asked.

"Only my sister. The last I heard, she was in Paris with my youngest nephew, the youngest of seven. I don't know where the other six are," Jean Valjean said. "That was long ago though; they may not be there anymore," he added.

Fantine nodded, knowing all too well how easy it was to lose track of persons in that city. Perhaps, she fancied, she might even have met them without knowing it. "How could a man as good as you be a convict? I almost do not believe it."

Jean Valjean smiled ruefully at her. "I took a loaf of bread to feed those seven children. It was winter and there was no work to be found."

"How terrible!" Fantine whispered, remembering now how close she and Cosette had come to this sort of dire situation. "But to go to prison, for such a thing as bread! How long did you have to stay there?"

"I was given five years in the galleys, but I tried to escape several times," he said. "It all added up to nineteen years."

Fantine hissed this mention of time. She knew that she herself was turning twenty-seven that year, and in comparison to this the span of two decades seemed too large a fraction to properly comprehend. "Then what happened once you left the galleys?"

"I sought work, and stopped in Digne briefly. There I met the Bishop of that town." Jean Valjean's tone was reverent when he spoke again. "He was more than a bishop; he was a saint."

"What did he do?" Fantine asked after a moment.

"He called me a friend and a brother," Jean Valjean said. "After this, I eventually I came to Montreuil-sur-mer and made my living there."

Her brow furrowed as she took in this information. Now the tale made sense to her save for one last detail. "But if you already went to prison, why are the police after you again?"

He looked down. "I broke my parole, and I also robbed a little Savoyard. Unlike you and Cosette, I am far from an innocent."

Fantine was silent as she sat on a stone and regarded Jean Valjean. There was no doubt that he was speaking the truth, but somehow it seemed as middling as a tower of blocks or a mound of dirt when she placed this narrative side by side with what she did know of him: his goodness to her, the high regard with which the nuns, Fauchelevent, and so many others spoke of him, and everything he had done for the town. Even so, could she truly trust him?

When she looked at him again, she realized that he was deep in thought; perhaps he was not watching the road but he saw before him the galleys, or Digne, or perhaps a cramped hearth at a village she would never see. Somehow the thought brought before her own sight a memory of a crackling stove and of Tholomyes' voice in the dead of winter. _'I never told anyone about that,"_ she realized. Who was she to judge, if she had something to conceal?

She primly smoothed down her skirt. "Monsieur, I'm not like Sister Simplice. I've lied too, just like everyone else, and it's awful since you thought I was honest," she said slowly. She smiled weakly when Jean Valjean looked at her. "I've hidden the truth too, about me and Cosette. I said her father was gone, but I never said 'where'. I was never a widow or an honest woman, as some people would say. I lived with her father for just about two or three years in Paris, then he left for his hometown. He never wrote back, never sent any help even when I asked."

Jean Valjean's expression was sympathetic. "I feel that it was through no fault of your own."

Fantine laughed bitterly. "I was young, and no one told me to do anything better. No father, no mother, no brothers or sisters, and I don't think my friends or the ladies I knew then could have helped me much." She looked over her shoulder to where Cosette was still sleeping. Heaven forbid that her sweet little girl meet a similar fate. "I've lied to several honest people. That is also very bad. You stole bread to care for someone, but I only lied since I didn't want people to think ill of me or Cosette. I don't know if one is better than the other anymore."

Jean Valjean nodded slowly. "It is not for either of us to judge." He looked up at the sky, which was growing light. "We can rest for a while, and then we move again. We cannot hope to catch any coach or diligence till we're at least a day away. The police will be on the alert."

"Cosette will get tired."

"I'll carry her."

Fantine smiled as she got to her feet. "You're a good man. I think you always were. Thank you," she said before going to curl up beside her daughter. For a long while she listened with her eyes closed for any sign of their benefactor leaving, but eventually the heat of the day and exhaustion lulled her into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

This was how a sort of easy peace began to form between them, helped along by Cosette's good cheer. It was a hard trek, with nights spent standing watch as two would sleep in a hollow or in a dry ditch, and days spent begging for food or searching for roots and water to eat. As they travelled northwards, Jean Valjean sometimes pointed out animals or old landmarks. Fantine sang ditties and ballads she'd learned in Paris. Cosette asked a myriad of questions or chased after birds. They rarely told stories; Jean Valjean did not like to speak of them and Fantine claimed she hardly knew any.

One day, when they had been trekking for just over a week, Fantine wandered into the woods to look for something to eat. Jean Valjean and Cosette were resting in a nearby glen. Fantine had gone a good way from them when suddenly her foot caught on a wayward root. In a moment she was sprawled in the mud, almost unable to move for the fiery pain in her left ankle. _'Oh Lord, no, no, please,'_ she begged, knowing somehow that she had twisted it. She tried to raise herself to her feet but only fell down again, all the while biting back a cry of agony.

Before she could make another attempt, she heard footsteps in the woods followed by a high pitched giggle. "Ponine! Come back here!" a little girl's voice shouted. In a few moments, a child dressed in a plain calico smock ran into the clearing. She looked to be about Cosette's age, or perhaps a little younger since she was shorter. She was thin but neat and clean, with her long raven hair done up in two braids. Yet her manner was nervous as she ran through the glen, clearly in search of someone. "Ponine, stop hiding, where are you?"

Fantine managed to raise herself to a sitting position. "Who are you looking for?" she called to the child.

The little girl turned and screamed with fright when she saw Fantine. Suddenly another girl rushed in, clearly startled by the first child's shrieks. "Zelma! What happened?" she asked as she grabbed her sister. She nearly jumped when she saw Fantine but she quickly regained her composure. "Oh you silly, it's only a lady!" she scolded.

Fantine wiped some mud off her face. "I'm sorry to have scared your sister," she said to the second girl. "I've only had a little fall."

The older child bit her lip as she looked Fantine over. She was dressed in a pink gown with slightly faded lace, and she had a white ribbon that kept her auburn hair away from her face. "Are you lost?"

"Not really," Fantine said. "I'm hurt though, and I need someone to help me, or have a look at my leg."

"Papa could help," the girl with darker hair said.

"Papa is sleeping and he'll be angry if we wake him up," her sister chided. "Maybe we'll ask Maman what we can do," she told Fantine.

Before Fantine could say anything, more footsteps sounded through the woods. "Maman!" Cosette shouted as she sprinted ahead of Jean Valjean and launched herself into her mother's arms. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"I only tripped," Fantine said reassuringly, but she dared to give Jean Valjean a worried smile. "I need help standing up."

"We need to get your ankle bound up," Jean Valjean said as he took off his scarf.

In the meantime Cosette had noticed the two other girls in the clearing. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Eponine, and this is my little sister Azelma," the older of the girls said proudly, making sure to put emphasis on their full names. "What's your name?"

"Cosette."

"It's a funny name," Azelma said in a breathy whisper.

Something about the little strangers' names made Fantine start. _'Where have I heard those before?'_ she wondered as she tried to stand up, only to end up stumbling and having to catch Jean Valjean's shoulder. "I don't think I can walk very far," she said through gritted teeth.

Jean Valjean nodded to her and then looked to Eponine. "Mademoiselle, do you live near here?"

"No, we're only passing by," Eponine said. "If you want you can talk to our Maman or Papa if it's something very important."

"It is. Can you show us the way?" Jean Valjean asked.

Azelma looked to her sister. "Papa is sleeping you said-"

"They asked," Eponine replied in a tone that made it clear that she was not to be contradicted. "It's not far away, let's go!"

Cosette lost no time in racing after the girls, clearly happy to finally see someone her age. Fantine winced as she managed to take a step with Jean Valjean supporting her injured side. Her eyes watered with every move, and she was almost faint by the time she caught sight of a large and badly painted wagon half-hidden by some large trees. A rather thin nag was tied up nearby and chewing on some old hay. A man and a woman were arguing near the wagon; the man had a pipe in his mouth and was leaning against a bare tree while the woman was seated on a rickety stool. The man was of a spare build, with graying hair that escaped his knitted cap and teeth that were beginning to yellow. He had a prickly and foreboding air, especially when his brow knitted with indignation at his spouse's words.

Yet it was not the man, but the woman who made Fantine pale and tug Jean Valjean's arm. The woman, though she had not seen her in a number of years, still loomed large in Fantine's memory. _'What has driven the Thenardiers to this?'_ she wondered. Had the winter been so harsh so as to drive them out of their own inn?

Mme. Thenardier was rapidly growing red in the face as she listened to her husband's imprecations, but her furious look softened as soon as she caught sight of her own children running up to her. "Where have you two treasures been?" she crooned as she lumbered over to the girls. She stopped when she saw Cosette, then Jean Valjean and Fantine. "Are you lost?"

_'She does not recognize me,'_ Fantine realized. "We were travelling and I met a little mishap. Your daughters found us in the wounds and said we could get help here."

"We're not doctors," Mme. Thenardier said.

"Maman, don't you and Papa have something?" Azelma asked, tugging on her mother's skirt.

"It's only to bind it up with," Mme. Thenardier said, gesturing to Fantine's injured foot. She looked to her husband, who was watching them intently. "Do we have anything of it left?"

"It's over by the baskets. You fetch it yourself, Lisette," M. Thenardier said. He rubbed his hands and straightened up as he went to Jean Valjean and Fantine. "It's a good thing my girls are so clever and kind; who knows what could have become of you in these horrible woods," he said as he showed Fantine to the rickety stool.

"It's a good thing I didn't fall too far away," Fantine said, trying not to bristle at his wheedling words. She looked to where Cosette had somehow joined the Thenardier girls as they were playing with their dolls. "Are they your only children?"

"There's another brat inside," M. Thenardier said dismissively. He extinguished his pipe as his wife returned with a half-empty bottle of salve and some rags. "What brings your family so far into the woods Monsieur—"

"Fabre. Urbain Fabre," Jean Valjean said briskly. "I'm travelling with my daughter and her child."

"Ah a child who is a prop for her father's old age," M. Thenardier said. "Is there a Madame Fabre?"

Jean Valjean smiled ruefully. "There was, twenty-seven years ago."

M. Thenardier bowed almost sympathetically before he watched Fantine remove her worn out shoes. "And where have you Fabres come from?"

"Toulouse," Fantine blurted out. She paused, realizing now the possible error of this. "At first; we've been travelling a fair bit."

"And where are you going?"

"Paris," Fantine said firmly, daring to catch Jean Valjean's wary look. _'I hope he agrees to it,'_ she thought before looking to where Thenardier was putting some salve on a bandage. "What about you and your family Monsieur-"

"Thenardier," the man said. "Nicolas Thenardier. It's doubly lucky that my little ones saw you. It seems as if it is our good fortune for our families to travel together, Mademoiselle."


	8. Chapter 8: To Become Parisian Once More

**Chapter 8: To Become Parisian Once More**

Although Fantine had certainly not expected to find the Thenardiers living in luxury, the state of their cart was nothing short of appalling. ' _Like a hovel set on wheels!'_ she thought even as she tried to make herself comfortable on a wobbly seat while trying to rub away the ache in her twisted ankle. It seemed as if the family had thrown whatever they could into bundles and baskets and then shoved the entire mess into the cart. It seemed as if the youngest child, a scrawny boy of about three years, had not been spared this treatment, for he had to make do with a worn out basket in a corner for a bed and two sticks for his playthings.

"Oh you poor little boy," Fantine crooned as she picked him up to wipe his face. She sighed when she saw that he was sucking his grimy thumb. "What is his name?" she asked his mother, who was darning one of her blouses.

Mme. Thenardier grunted as she looked up from her work. "I can't decide on one."

"How do you call him then?" Fantine asked curiously.

Mme. Thenardier shrugged. "Boy or brat, it doesn't matter. He doesn't heed me or stop crying." She looked out to where her husband was still talking to Jean Valjean while the three little girls were now playing with some old dolls in a makeshift bower. "So you go by Mademoiselle Fabre. What about your child's father?"

"Gone. His family wouldn't let me keep the name anyway in his absence," Fantine replied.

"That is odd," Mme. Thenardier said. "You aren't in mourning?"

"It was a long time ago," Fantine said. ' _If Felix had actually passed on, God forbid, I would not have to wear black or anything for him anymore by this time,'_ she realized. For a moment she wondered what Felix would be up to this winter. Certainly he was doing well in Toulouse, where it was warmer and he had the company of those who accepted him and would care for him. Nevertheless this was only a guess, for it was highly possible that the years could have been equally unkind to him.

Before Fantine could descend too far into this rather sordid reverie she saw the child in her lap begin to squirm. "Maman! Maman!" the boy shouted as he reached for Mme. Thenardier.

"Quiet!" Mme. Thenardier snapped, brandishing the soup ladle at the boy. The child started at the sound before cringing and then hiding his face in Fantine's dress.

"Maybe I ought to let him play with the others," Fantine suggested. Before she could inch over to let the boy out of the cart, suddenly the child cried out and pointed to where M. Thenardier had just made his appearance at the rear of the cart.

M. Thenardier rolled his eyes at the boy before looking to his wife. "Can't you keep your brat clean? Someone might think that we are harbouring an urchin!"

"If he wants to look like one of those  _gavroches_ , that isn't my fault," Mme. Thenardier muttered.

The former innkeeper spat on the ground. "Well get the girls inside." He looked at Fantine with a smile that was intended to be kindly but succeeded only in being chilling. "Have you got friends or anyone to stay with in Paris?"

Fantine's mouth went dry as she tried to rack her brains for any address she could name. "At the Estrapade, near the Pantheon," she stammered out. ' _Why did I mention Dahlia's address?'_ she wondered incredulously.

The Thenardiers exchanged quizzical looks before M. Thenardier had to step aside to let his daughters clamber into the cart. M. Thenardier looked to Jean Valjean, who had just swung Cosette onto his shoulders. "I'll need twenty-five francs for you to travel with us."

Jean Valjean started at this. "For what expenses?"

"I'm not feeding my children out of the woods for the duration of our journey! What kind of father would I be if I didn't allow them to get decent food at an inn from time to time?" Thenardier said, sounding affronted at the question.

' _Do we have twenty-five francs?'_ Fantine wondered. She hesitated to search through her carpetbag, which Jean Valjean had brought over a few minutes ago. Much to her surprise she saw her companion reach into his coat pocket and count out five coins which he thrust into Thenardier's hands. The man pocketed the coins immediately before going to hitch the horse again to the wagon.

Fantine shifted to let Cosette inch in next to her. "You didn't have to," she said to Jean Vajean.

"A small sacrifice," Jean Valjean muttered gruffly, gesturing first to her swollen ankle and then the gathering clouds overhead.

Fantine sighed deeply even as she could smell water in the air. She kept an arm around Cosette so she would not be jostled as the wagon lurched its way back to the northward road. A few minutes later cold rain slashed through the sky, forcing Mme. Thenardier to close off the cart with rough cloths while the rest of the travellers huddled towards the middle.

At length Eponine flopped on the floor and sighed dramatically. "Are we in Paris yet?"

"In a little while, treasure," said. "How are we going to get in?" she asked her husband.

M. Thenardier grunted as he looked back from where he was driving the cart. "Through one of those barrieres...the one at the north, the Barriere du Monceau."

Fantine tried not to frown at the mention of this place, knowing that its environs were quite far from the neighbourhood she had given as her supposed address. "From there, where will you go?"

M. Thenardier gave her a suspicious look. "We have our own business to tend to."

"Papa, are we going to have a nice, grand house like the ladies were talking about?" Eponine asked, jumping up to tap her father on his shoulder.

"You keep quiet and that big house will come soon enough," M. Thenardier chided, pulling on the horse's reins. "Stop asking so many questions!"

Eponine scooted away from her father and picked up her doll. Cosette picked up another doll from the cart's floor and went to sit next to the girl. "We can play that they are grand ladies first," she offered.

Eponine frowned. "Not ladies, but little princesses. You, Zelma and I can be big princesses."

"What about the baby?" Cosette asked, gesturing to Eponine's little brother, who was noisily banging his two sticks together.

Eponine glanced dismissively at her sibling. "Maybe he's the little dragon guarding the princesses."

"How can there be a dragon if there's no one to save the princesses?" Cosette asked.

"That's why there are  _big_  princesses, to stop the dragon!" Eponine said cheerily.

"Such noisy children!" Mme. Thenardier scolded even as she was unable to keep Azelma from wriggling off her lap to join in the game. "What am I going to do with them?"

In the meantime Cosette tugged on Jean Valjean's sleeve. "Can you be the keeper of the castle?"

"What should I do as the keeper?" Jean Valjean asked warmly.

"Make sure the dragon doesn't come for us too!" Cosette exclaimed.

"If he's the keeper, then what are Papa, Maman, and your Maman?" Azelma asked.

"I'll be the good fairy," Fantine said, hoping to intervene before the Thenardier girls could disturb their parents too much with their play. "That's what she's called in those stories, Cosette?"

Cosette nodded. "She's the fairy godmother." She found some ribbon that had lain abandoned in a basket and knotted it together. "Here's a crown, Maman!"

Fantine had to keep a dignified face as she let her daughter 'crown' her before they could properly begin their game. It hardly seemed to matter that there was very little space to move around and that most of the time the little girls and the tiny boy just wound up climbing all over her or Jean Valjean. In fact all of them were surprised when at last M. Thenardier declared that he had enough of travelling for an hour, and decreed that they all should have lunch at a small roadside inn.

Jean Valjean seemed to take this news with some trepidation, for he hesitated to follow them into the inn until Cosette pulled him into the doorway. "Will you be safe travelling with the Thenardiers?" he asked Fantine in an undertone as they took seats a little away from the Thenardier family.

Fantine shook her head, knowing already what he had in mind. "They frighten me," she confessed. "Not the children of course, but the innkeeper man and his wife. I've met them before, on my way to Paris so long ago."

Jean Valjean ran a hand through his white hair. "Once you are in Paris, you and Cosette can find any address you wish. You need not stay with them."

' _Something tells me that I will not be able to get away so easily,'_ Fantine wanted to say but she did not dare voice this out here in the taproom. "Maybe there is some other way to get into Paris that does not involve those barrieres," she said. Surely she would remember if there was another way in. "The river?"

"It will be a long detour from the Barriere du Monceau to reach the quays near the Route de Versailles," Jean Valjean said tersely. "A boatman will be needed-"

"A boatman! What sort of cruise will that be in this weather?" M. Thenardier chimed in as he sauntered up with two large tankards of beer.

"It's for business. Papa used to need it," Fantine said cheerily. She saw Jean Valjean's tense look relax momentarily at this evasion.

"It's a good way to catch one's death," M. Thenardier declared. "You never said you were in the business of boating," he said pointedly to Valjean.

"I used to sell melons. It is sometimes easier to transport them by water," Jean Valjean explained.

Fantine stared into her tankard of beer, afraid that if she met M. Thenardier's eyes that he would catch on to this deception. "We need to make arrangements as early as now."

"Yes since you good folk already have lodging," M. Thenardier said sourly before draining one of the tankards he'd brought.

After a hurried and mostly silent lunch this group continued on their way to Paris. It was mid-afternoon by the time they arrived at the Barriere du Monceau. The sentry there eyed their cart sceptically. "Where did you come from?" he asked M. Thenardier.

"Livry," the innkeeper said. "Our friends here came from-"

"Chelles," Fantine chimed in, taking care to keep Jean Valjean out of sight. ' _Please don't let them bring out a piece of paper,'_ she begged silently as she watched the sentry pacing in front of the cart. She could feel both Cosette as well as the little Thenardier boy pressed against her, as if trying to hide as well. It was only with some difficulty that she managed to place her arms around both trembling children in an attempt to reassure them. She also saw that Azelma was hiding behind her mother, but Eponine tried to peer out of the cart before Mme. Thenardier snapped at her to stay inside.

M. Thenardier eyed the guards warily as they began to whisper among themselves. "Is everything in order?" he asked.

"Do any of you have passports?" one of the guards asked.

The head sentry turned to cuff him. "No one needs a passport when coming from Livry or Chelles." He waved the cart forward. "Welcome to Paris."

Fantine had to refrain from crossing herself as the cart lumbered down the boulevard towards the Rue Rumfort. Was it possible that no one was searching for her and Jean Valjean, or had Inspector Javert given up the chase? Suddenly she felt Mme. Thenardier's large hand close around her own thin wrist. "You aren't from Chelles," the older woman growled.

Fantine looked Mme. Thenardier in the face. "They don't have to know-"

"So Mademoiselle Fabre, which way to the Estrapade?" M. Thenardier called.

It took Fantine a moment to remember that the former innkeeper was addressing her "Straight on down till the Place du Madeleine, then we'll take a right till we're at the Place de Louis XVI," she said. The sight of the increasingly familiar streets was now more disconcerting than comforting, for it had been so long till she'd seen such narrow lanes filled with so many people. ' _I'll get used to it again by and by,'_ she told herself over and over as the wagon drove down the Rue Jacob, then south towards the Odeon, the Place Saint-Michel, and then at last to the crowded classical vista that was the Place du Pantheon.

"What house are we looking for?" Jean Valjean asked.

"A two-floor brown house on the Estrapade," Fantine replied. "The roof has old gray shingles."

"Maman, look!" Cosette shouted, pointing to a carriage rattling by. "Where are they going?"

"Probably to their own home," Fantine said, catching a glimpse of a sharp looking woman of advanced years and a young boy seated in the carriage. She looked about in vain for the residence in question, but found herself staring at a row of houses all of roughly the same height. "They must have painted the place!" she exclaimed as she got out of the wagon.

"What, you mean to knock on every door?" M. Thenardier called to her.

Fantine shook her head as she looked about, trying to remember just how far her friend's home had been from the street corner. ' _It might be six or seven, on the right,'_ she decided as she counted out the houses, and then went to knock on the sixth door.

This door opened to reveal a tired looking woman who could easily have been about the age of fifty. "Monsieur is not receiving any visitors today," she said as she rubbed her temples. On closer inspection it seemed as if the left side of her face was taut and pink, as if she had been burned a year or so ago.

"Madame, I'm not looking for a Monsieur. I'm looking for a lady named Dahlia," Fantine said. "She used to live here."

The woman blinked blearily at this name and looked Fantine over from head to toe. "La Blonde?"

At the sound of this old nickname, Fantine nearly started. "How did you know my name?"

The woman snorted and looked as if she was about to wipe away a tear. "I didn't think you'd remember me. Dahlia has been gone a year, but I stayed on. As always."

Fantine's jaw dropped as she realized who was facing her. "Zephine? What has happened to you?"


	9. Chapter 9: The Lodgers at the Estrapade

**Chapter 9: The Lodgers At the Estrapade**

If there was one thing that had not changed about Zephine it was her predilection for lodging on the second floor. "It's a nice little place, and not bad for thirty francs a year," Zephine explained in a very embarrassed voice when she admitted Fantine and the older Thenardiers to her small room. The children remained playing on the first floor under Jean Valjean's watchful eye.

"Pooh, what a hole! I had thought to see a house," M. Thenardier grumbled as he took the only armchair in the room. "You could fit two of these holes in our bedchamber!" he told his wife.

Fantine looked to Mme. Thenardier, who merely gave an indolent shrug, and then settled herself on the least comfortable seat atop a chest of drawers. She dearly wished for something to support her now aching ankle, but settled for simply resting her foot on a drawer handle.  _'This place is hardly a hole,'_ she wanted to say. There was a proper bed in an alcove, a good fire in a stove, cheery curtains in the window, and a large table that was probably for her friend's sewing work. She glanced at Zephine, who was opening the window for some air. The afternoon light made the burn on Zephine's face stand out even more starkly than before, and Fantine had to look away before anyone could see her shudder. "I'm sorry about Dahlia. I wish I'd known," she finally said.

A half-smile crossed Zephine's face. "I heard you left Paris. I thought Dahlia had too till we became neighbours by accident."

"You two were always close," Fantine pointed out.

Zephine merely laughed harshly. "At least I was the one who could be here at the end. She had that coughing, wasting sort of illness." She smiled uneasily at the Thenardiers. "Family by any chance?"

"We only met on the road," Mme. Thenardier said stiffly.

"We decided to travel together," Fantine supplied before the Thenardiers could say anything more. "The old man is actually my father," she added.

Zephine nodded slowly. "One of those girls there-" she began.

"Yes. My daughter. You remember her?" Fantine said quickly.

"Of course. She was such a beautiful little thing the last time I saw you both. And now almost a little lady!" Zephine remarked. "The three others are yours?" she asked the Thenardiers.

"So she tells me," M. Thenardier guffawed as he leaned back in his seat.

Fantine had to keep a straight face despite her companion's rudeness to his wife. "Are there any other rooms that can be leased in this house?"

Zephine gestured to the floor. "There's a nice one downstairs, next to the concierge's room."

"What about the other rooms on this floor?" Fantine asked.

"A musician who might move out soon, a writer, and then there's Monsieur the swellest of the lot," Zephine said. "Actually he's a student but we all call him Monsieur here to tease him."

M. Thenardier scoffed audibly. "These bohemians! I am doubly certain that I won't have my family under the same roof with such a disreputable sort." He gave Fantine a withering look. "You said this was a good place, Mademoiselle Fabre."

"It's safe and snug," Fantine argued weakly. She could see Zephine's eyes narrow as she pursed her lips, just the way she once did when dealing with some half-hearted excuses from her former lover Fameuil. ' _She knows I never had any other name than Fantine and that I have no father either,'_ she recalled.

"But too small for three children," Zephine said primly. She looked at Thenardier and smiled sweetly. "There might be nicer places; there's the Hotel de la Porte-Saint-Jacques."

"Is it far from here?"

"No, just a few streets away."

Fantine noticed Mme. Thenardier shifting in her seat as if to protest this, but the older woman simply remained silent. ' _Perhaps she might want a different address,'_ she thought. She waited for M. Thenardier to excuse himself on the pretext of seeking the privy before she looked at Mme. Thenardier again. "Did you want to go elsewhere?"

Mme. Thenardier sniffed. "As long as the place is big enough for my girls."

"This quartier isn't the place for large houses on a few sous. You'd know that too, Fantine," Zephine said wryly, even as she seemed to be studying her former friend. Perhaps she liked what she saw, since her voice was a little more earnest when she spoke again. "Will you stay here?"

"I shall have to ask my father," Fantine replied. The words were becoming easier to say, especially when she didn't have to think too much about what it meant. ' _Will he want to stay? What if he still wants to go elsewhere?'_ she wondered as she hobbled downstairs, taking care to give M. Thenardier some room to pass her on the stairs. She saw that all the children had fallen asleep on the floor near a stove: the two Thenardier girls were curled up together, while their brother was sprawled across their feet. As for Cosette, she was using Jean Valjean's shin as a pillow instead of the carpetbag next to them.

Jean Valjean signed for Fantine to be quiet. "How is your friend?" he whispered.

"Haven't asked yet," Fantine said. She fisted her hands in her skirt, wondering how to phrase her question without sounding improper. "There's a room here, that's big enough for a family to stay in."

Jean Valjean smiled at her kindly. "Fantine, I cannot."

"There's nothing wrong with it, if people think you're my grandfather," Fantine said.

"It is not safe for you and Cosette. There might still be a search for me," Jean Valjean said.

Fantine shook her head. "There has to be some way! Maybe someday they will stop looking for you."

Jean Valjean looked down. "That would only be a hope."

Just then the older Thenardiers came down the stairs, arguing loudly. At the sounds of their parents' voices, the three Thenardier children quickly woke and scrambled to their feet. "Maman, what's happening?" Eponine asked.

"We're going to our new home, my dear," Mme. Thenardier said as she took Eponine's arm. "Come on, keep up!"

Cosette, having been woken by this sudden commotion, let out a surprised cry as she ran to her playmates. "Where are you going?"

Mme. Thenardier stopped on seeing Cosette, and how Eponine seemed to hesitate at the sight of the other girl. "Well go say goodbye to each other; Cosette will be staying here with her mother," she told her own daughter.

"Maybe you can come here again and play," Cosette said to Eponine.

"If we have a nice house, you should come and see it too," Eponine said.

Cosette nodded before hugging Eponine, and then Azelma before the girls were scooped up by their parents. "Bye! See you soon!"

Just as Fantine took Cosette by her shoulders, she realized that the little Thenardier boy was trying to hang on to Mme. Thenardier's skirt, begging to be picked up. The woman cursed at him and kicked him aside, sending him to the floor screeching in pain.

"Madame!" Fantine shouted in shock as she ran to the sobbing child and picked him up just as the front door slammed. She tried to call out and then run after the Thenardiers, but to no avail; the family seemed to disappear in the crowds around the Place du Pantheon. She clasped the still wailing little boy to her chest in an attempt to soothe him and shield him from the now cold afternoon wind. ' _How far can they get in the storm?'_ she wondered as she looked up and saw the sky turning a vicious dark gray. She wrapped her shawl more tightly around the boy before trudging back to the house, all the while trying to bite back her own panic. What would she do if she had to care for this child as well?

When she returned to the house, she saw Zephine already shutting the windows against the impending ill weather while Jean Valjean was lighting an old lamp. Cosette had already retrieved her book from the carpetbag and was poring over the very dog-eared pages. "Maman, can he stay with us?" she asked when she saw Fantine and the small Thenardier boy.

"I think he  _has_  to," Zephine chimed in. "Better with you than with that woman." 

"He doesn't even have a name," Fantine said.

"Ponine said that sometimes his father calls him a  _gavroche_ ," Cosette reported.

"We can't call him that," Fantine said disapprovingly. "Perhaps you should name him," she said to Jean Valjean, who seemed to have lapsed in a melancholy.

Jean Valjean looked at the little boy, who had calmed down enough to start sucking his thumb. "The name 'Victor' would suit him," he said as he stroked the boy's hair to further soothe him.

"Then Victor it is," Fantine said. ' _Maybe I can have him and Cosette baptized at the same time,'_ she thought, remembering that Cosette had been taking catechism lessons from Sister Simplice before their abrupt departure. She rubbed her hands together for warmth as she heard rain beginning to howl outside the house. She also noticed that Zephine was shivering too even if she was right next to the candle. Something about the way the flickering light fell on Zephine's face moved Fantine such that she couldn't resist speaking. "What happened?"

"An accident," Zephine said flatly as she put the candle further away from her.

"Oh how terrible!"

"It was long ago, don't mention it," Zephine muttered before going back upstairs to her own room.


	10. Chapter 10: A Situation in Short Order

**Chapter 10: A Situation in Short Order**

Fantine knew that it was imperative that she 'get their situation together', which meant not only furnishing the small room but also seeking gainful employment. "You'll find hard going of it," Zephine warned later that evening when Fantine asked for a word or two on possible workplaces. "No one wants rusty services."

Fantine felt her face burn at this jibe; she had not been a proper needlewoman for some years now. "Better than none, so I'll try my chances!"

So the very next morning, despite the bitter cold weather and the fact that it was a Sunday, Fantine put on her warmest clothes and bound up her still tender ankle. For her breakfast, she pocketed two crusts of bread. ' _I can eat just as well while walking,'_ she decided as she headed to the neighbourhood of the Place de l'Odeon. Although she was sure there were places closer by, in the environs of Saint-Etienne and the Polytechnique, this was Zephine's province. Fantine knew better than to trod on the train of a queen, however self-styled. ' _Anyway there are always costumes and little things to be done at the theater, Sunday or not,'_ she reassured herself. Who knew, perhaps some prima donna or patroness would ask for her services, and she would be on her way to becoming someone's dressmaker?

However the Odeon and its neighbours were still slumbering when she arrived; the backdoor of the theater was closed, the square was empty, and only two carriages passed by in the span of ten minutes. "Why does this part of Paris keep a different clock?" Fantine asked herself exasperatedly. The habit of rising late had not bothered her too much when she was seventeen and blissful, but were vexing now that she was twenty-five and careworn. She pulled her sleeves more tightly over her gloves, anxious to better cover her wrists against the chill lest she feel her own blood freeze in her veins.

As she looked around, wondering if she should head down the Rue Racine, the Rue de Voltaire or the Rue de l'Odeon, or perhaps go instead towards the Rue de Conde, she heard a friendly shout in the square. "Mademoiselle Fantine!" This voice belonged to an elderly man who was dressed a little like a peasant, that is to say clean but with some of the soil still lingering in his clothing. He limped, as if one of his knees had gone a little stiff.

Fantine laughed when she recognized this man. "Father Fauchelevent!"

Fauchelevent made a gracious bow. "It's good of you to remember me! What are you doing all the way here in Paris? And all alone?"

Fantine shook her head. "I brought my little girl with me. Monsieur Valjean-I mean, Monsieur Madeleine the mayor is with me too."

"What, him too!" Fauchelevent said. "What a terrible winter this is! Why did you leave that old town?"

"It's a terrible story," Fantine replied, unsure how to explain the circumstances of the sudden flight from Montreuil-sur-mer. It occurred to her then that there was a serious question she had yet to address: that of Jean Valjean's difficulty. "Father Fauchelevent, you're the very friend we need now in Paris. Monsieur Madeleine needs help."

"Help him! I'd like nothing better than to do that!" Fauchelevent cried. "Where are you staying?"

"At the Estrapade."

"Ah that is some way back. I will go with you; it is a bit out of the usual path back to the convent but as long as I am back by dark the prioress will not mind. I am only out on errands today since the vocal mothers and the claustral sisters are a little ill. I'm a gardener there at Picpus, if you remember."

Fantine nodded, though no recollection of this fact sprung to mind. "Where are you going?"

"I'm making a visit to the Church of Saint-Sulpice."

Fantine smiled at the mention of this church for it was in a neighbourhood she was also familiar with. "I've been there."

"It's good you know the place," Fauchelevent answered cheerily. "I am a friend of the warden. It is a lovely church; now if only those kind Lazarines could see it!"

This mention of her old friends Sister Simplice and Sister Perpetue brought a slight pang into Fantine's chest, but she bravely smiled instead. "Maybe I will tell them about it someday," she said.

It was not a long walk to the Place Saint Sulpice, even though more than once Fantine deliberately slowed her steps to allow the stubborn Fauchelevent to catch up. Eventually she let him lean on her arm, and it was in this manner that they finally came in sight of this church. The morning Mass had just concluded, so the square was crowded, but nevertheless Fantine and Fauchelevent had little trouble entering the church nave. Fauchelevent found a place in the rear, where he crossed himself and began to mutter a few prayers.

As for Fantine, she remained a little way off and closed her eyes, but prayer was the last thing on her mind. ' _Zephine, Dahlia, and I used to go here on Sundays because of Listolier,'_ she thought. For some reason this young man had been the only real churchgoing one of their double quartet, and not even Dahlia's cajoling or the jibes of Favourite, Tholomyes, Blacheville, and Fameuil could sway him from this habit. Dahlia made the concession of meeting Listolier here after Sunday mass, in order to make the best of their one shared free day. It happened so often such that Fantine could almost hear her friend's giggles in the arches alongside the nave, or see her smile brighten at the sight of her beloved. In those days Dahlia had been beautiful, and judging perhaps from Zephine's contemptuous tone, had remained almost that way to the very end.

A plaintive, half-choked sound like that of a man weeping drew Fantine out of this delightful haze of memory, and she turned to see a bowed figure half-concealed in the shadow of a pillar. He did not seem particularly old, but he was worn by care and the deepest grief that tore his breath from his throat in heart wrenching sobs. Fantine realized that this unfortunate had his eyes fixed on a young boy seated outside the chapel of the Virgin. This boy of about twelve or thirteen years was placid and shy, with black hair and amiable features that promised to turn out handsome. ' _Why doesn't the gentleman go to him?'_ Fantine wondered, now moved almost to tears at this sight. Before she could move she saw another man, clearly the churchwarden, approach the gentleman behind the pillar. They seemed to exchange a few words before they stood together in the same attitude of sad and longing contemplation, up until the boy started at the sight of a severe, almost snappish looking woman emerging from the chapel. This lady looked about before she and the boy quitted the area, hardly looking about for anyone else.

"Monsieur Mabeuf has a guest," Fauchelevent remarked as he limped over to Fantine. "It is a lay confessional of sorts; what one cannot tell the cure, one can always tell the warden," he mused before waving to the warden. "Good morning Monsieur Mabeuf!"

The warden bid goodbye to his friend before going to Fauchelevent and Fantine. "Good to see you Fauchelevent," he greeted the old gardener heartily. He bowed courteously to Fantine. "A relation of his, no doubt, Mademoiselle?"

Fauchelevent shook his head. "Mademoiselle Fantine, may I introduce Monsieur Mabeuf," he said. "Mademoiselle has just arrived in Paris."

"Welcome to Saint-Sulpice," Mabeuf replied kindly. "Is there any way I can help you, Mademoiselle?"

Fantine paused to summon her courage; if she did not broach a certain query now the opportunity would be lost forever. "It's nothing to do with church, Monsieur. I'm looking about for a situation," she replied. "Not for me, since that could take care of itself I believe, but for a friend," she clarified when she saw Fauchelevent's confused look.

Mabeuf nodded though his eyes were sparkling with curiosity. "This is a church, Mademoiselle Fantine. It is not the usual place for employment."

"My friend isn't the usual gentleman either," Fantine said, feeling a strange rush of pride on saying these words. "He's a benefactor to me and my child, and a good man, a saint walking on this earth if there ever was one. He's of the retiring sort but he is still so helpful."

"You will never meet a more worthy man in France than Monsieur Madeleine," Fauchelevent chimed in. "He's learned, far more than I can say for this," he added, rapping his own head with his knuckles.

"A good hearted scholar," Mabeuf said. "Where is Monsieur Madeleine residing?"

"At the Estrapade," Fantine replied. As soon as she said this, she realized that there was a sudden difficulty that Fauchelevent's helpfulness now presented and that Mabeuf's solicitude made impossible to deny. "He's renting his room under the name Fabre, just to avoid some difficulty."

Fauchelevent stared at her for a moment but a sudden light of comprehension came into his eyes. "Madeleine was father to an entire town, but Fabre is your father and the grandfather of the girl," he finally pronounced. "See how good he is, not to expose Mademoiselle to undue questioning."

. "Will Monsieur Fabre be home later today?" Mabeuf asked.

"He will," Fantine said. "Thank you, Monsieur Mabeuf. You're far too kind." She quickly withdrew to let the men finish their own discussion on Fauchelevent's original errand, and also to give herself the time to ponder her own situation. ' _Maybe I shall have better luck with finding something to do tomorrow,'_ she resolved.

A quarter of an hour later, Fauchelevent and Fantine took their leave of the warden and made their way to the Estrapade. At the house they were greeted by childish laughter; Cosette and Victor were already up for the day and were playing on the floor. Jean Valjean was seated nearby with a book on his lap, but his attention was clearly on the two children. On the stairway, Zephine was chatting with a broad shouldered young man who seemed undisturbed by the fact that his striped yellow waistcoat seemed too thin and brash for the winter weather.

Zephine laughed when she saw Fantine. "Any success?"

"It's a bad day for sewing, but I met an old friend," Fantine said, indicating Fauchelevent.

Jean Valjean set his book aside and got to his feet while Fauchelevent hobbled forward. "What are you doing here?" Jean Valjean asked the gardener.

"What, don't you remember? You were the one who sent me to Paris!" Fauchelevent chortled before embracing Jean Valjean. "Mademoiselle and I have also a friend who can help you."

"The warden from Saint Sulpice wants to meet you," Fantine explained. "He's a good man who may help with finding some situation for you here in Paris."

Jean Valjean's expression was both stricken and incredulous. "What about for yourself?"

"I'm sure I can find a place. No one would want to go about naked this winter," Fantine said blithely, all the while aware of Zephine's mocking look.

"Better naked than unfashionable," the imposing young man quipped.

"Monsieur!" Zephine said reproachfully. "I thought I was the one you preferred."

"I will not be ungallant to a fellow lodger," the man said. "You must be Mademoiselle Fantine, Cosette's mother," he said, taking Fantine's hand to kiss it. "My name is Bahorel."

"A pleasure to meet you," Fantine said, feeling both tickled and discomfited by such chivalry. It did not help that Bahorel was clearly younger than either her or Zephine. She saw Fauchelevent draw Jean Valjean aside, clearly in an attempt to speak more about Mabeuf's visit. She took off her hat and her fichu before looking again to Bahorel. "I hear you are a student?"

"When I have the temper for it and when events allow me to," Bahorel replied gleefully.

"He comes from very far away, from outside Paris!" Cosette chirped as she tugged on Fantine's skirt. "It's further than Montreuil-sur-mer!"

"I'm from the Midi," Bahorel explained. He cocked his head as a carriage drew up to the door. "It's early for such grand callers."

Fantine snatched up her fichu again, but to her surprise the callers turned out to be the three Thenardier females. All of them seemed to have just thrown on velvet cloaks over the same dresses they had on since the day before. "Good morning Madame Thenardier. I didn't expect to see you and the girls so soon again," she greeted.

"They need dresses," Mme. Thenardier huffed, speaking to Fantine as well as Zephine. She stopped to ruffle Azelma's hair and retie Eponine's hair ribbon, but she did not even look at her little son. "The ones they have are not warm enough for winter."

"Where is Monsieur Thenardier?" Fantine asked.

"Speaking to some playwright friend of his," Mme. Thenardier muttered as she sat in the chair that Jean Valjean had occupied earlier. "I do not see why he has to go off and meet them, when they can very well call on our lodgings. They are far nicer."

' _Probably too lavish for them to keep for long,'_ Fantine wondered worriedly. "Zephine, will you need some help?" she asked her housemate.

Zephine cast a cautious eye on the two Thenardier girls, who were pulling Cosette as well as Bahorel into some little game of their own. "Help me keep them still," she said before going upstairs to fetch her sewing supplies.

In the meantime Eponine stole up to Fantine and tugged on her sleeve. "Is there still breakfast here? I'm so hungry!" she whispered.

"Didn't you have anything to eat today?" Fantine asked as she searched her pockets for the remaining crust of bread.

"It wasn't enough," Eponine said as she took the piece of bread, broke it in half and scurried back to slip it to Azelma.

Little did Fantine know that this scene would be repeated, only in varying ways, over the coming years.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: The Specter Changes Form**

Following this, matters fell into place well enough such that for a time there were hardly any events for the newly arrived quartet at the Estrapade. Mabeuf found a situation for Jean Valjean assisting him at Saint-Sulpice, while Fantine surprised everyone by acquiring a place at a milliner in the neighbourhood of Rue Val de Grace. Cosette became known as Euphrasie Fabre, and in due time she came to work alongside her mother at the shop. In the meantime, the little Thenardier boy was called Victor Fabre. Despite all of this, Zephine, Bahorel, and the Thenardier sisters still insisted on referring to them as Cosette and Gavroche, respectively. The purported Fabres lived easily this way for a number of years; the younger two were carefree, while the older pair was somewhat content for as long they remained unnoticed by certain elements.

The year 1830 brought about several unwelcome changes: Mabeuf's brother, the cure at Vernon, passed away in his sleep one June day. Owing to grief and a number of other crises, Mabeuf let go of his home at the Rue Mesieries and his duties as the warden of Saint-Sulpice. "I'd hand them to you, my friend, but a warden must be seen while his assistant may be hidden. I know it does not suit you," he told Jean Valjean by way of apology when he visited the Fabres at the Estrapade.

"I understand," Jean Valjean said solemnly. "In fact it would have been impossible for me to accept."

This had been said in Fantine's hearing, and thus she was greatly perturbed. After dinner she pulled him aside. "What do you mean by impossible?" she demanded.

"We cannot hide in this way for much longer," Jean Valjean said. "Look to the children."

This was enough to convince Fantine; it was becoming too difficult to house all four of them in a single room now that Cosette and Victor were both growing tall. Old Fauchelevent was gone too, and there was no one to vouch for them or provide succour. "What shall we do?" she asked.

"Remove," Jean Valjean said resignedly. "No one can remember the man of Saint-Sulpice."

It was decided. In a fortnight the Fabres removed to the quieter environs of the Rue Plumet. It was just as well, for the violent tempers of that July sent several bullets through the apartments at the Estrapade, thus forcing the last holdouts of the place including Zephine and Bahorel to seek lodgings elsewhere in the Latin Quartier.

One early afternoon just after lunch, about a year and a half since the Fabres settled at the Rue Plumet, Fantine happened to be knitting a shawl by the warmth of the small fireplace. Jean Valjean and Victor were in the back of the house making some repairs, all the while engaged in some quiet conversation. Fantine found herself smiling at this familiar hubbub; had it not been for young Victor, the rest of the family would probably pass days or weeks in near-silence. In the depths of her reverie, she almost did not notice when another figure entered the room. "What are you up to, Cosette?" she asked.

"Only a little sewing, Maman," Cosette said as she daintily set down her sewing basket as well as a handkerchief she'd been hemming. At sixteen going on seventeen, she was very far removed from that gawky child who'd left Montreuil-sur-mer. She had grown quite fair and enchanting, with rich brown hair that she wore in ringlets, lush lips that curved into a pure and sweet smile, and a profile that could put any of the Graces to shame. Her dark blue eyes were pensive but keen, often making her seem more gay than dreamy. "That shawl would look beautiful on you, Maman," she remarked.

"It's not for me. It's for the basket at the church of Saint Jacques du Haut Pas," Fantine replied. Some of the concerned parishioners took up a regular collection of old and new clothes to distribute to the beggars and rag-pickers of the area. Fantine's sense of refinement was now combined with an eye for economy, and thus she was sure that this shawl, as well as other garments she had previously sewn for this effort, would be greatly appreciated.

Cosette nodded as she began to thread her needle. Her fine fingers made easy work of embroidery, and in a matter of minutes the beginnings of a monogram graced a corner of the handkerchief. "I remember there were hardly enough things to give out on Christmas day," she said at length.

"It has not been a good year," Fantine murmured. For a moment her mind's eye had a terrible vision of her own hands pricked and scarred, while Cosette shivered and grew thin in this inclement weather. ' _How many times we've come so close to that all those years ago!'_ she thought.

Before Cosette could tie off the thread, two rapid knocks sounded on the front door. "I know who that is," Cosette said as she set aside her sewing and quickly walked into the front hall. "Hello Eponine! Why are you walking about alone?"

Fantine smiled in an effort to hide her worry when she saw the older Thenardier girl kicking off a pair of oversized and leaky shoes. Over the past years the Thenardier family had simply moved from one domestic misadventure to another, leaving behind a trail of abandoned lodgings, unpaid rent, and two more little sons that Mme. Thenardier had seemingly palmed off on another acquaintance. In such conditions, the young girls could only struggle to grow. Eponine now stood a few inches higher than Cosette, but she had also been imbued with a lankiness that was painfully emphasized by her ragged blouse and skirt. Her auburn hair was long and wavy, and easily tangled thanks to the inclement weather. She was tanned, with chapped lips and rough hands, but her dark brown eyes were bright with a wild vivacity that also showed through her raspy laughter.

Nevertheless Eponine still maintained some semblance of manners. "Good day Madame Fantine," she greeted as she rubbed her reddened fingers. "Oh I must sit by that fire for a moment!"

"No, stay as long as you need to," Fantine said. "Are you alone?"

Eponine nodded. "Papa is out; I'm running a bit of an errand for him."

"What about your mother and your sister?" Fantine asked.

Eponine shrugged. "They're at home. They're fine, Madame Fantine," she said.

"That's good. You girls can chat while I get something warm for all of us to drink," Fantine said as she got up to put the kettle on the stove in the kitchen as well as to fetch a little white bread. The latter was quite dear in price, but she could not abide the idea of either Cosette or Victor grinding their fine teeth on black bread.

As she cut some pieces of bread, she heard Victor hurrying in. "Are we having dinner early, Maman?" he asked in astonishment.

"No, we have a visitor," Fantine said as she craned her neck to look up at the boy fondly. At twelve, Victor was only beginning to attain a great height, but it was already evident that he had more hope of filling out nicely, or at least better than his sister was faring. He was cheery and impetuous, with a habit of wearing his reddish hair creeping down over his ears. He had recently been given an old pocket watch, and he prided on always having it showing over the top of his fob.

Victor cocked his head to listen to the chatter from the adjoining room. "It's only Eponine. Is Azelma with her?"

Fantine shook her head before cutting another slice for Victor and handing it to him. "Where is your grandfather?"

"Out at the back lodge," Victor replied. "He's still fixing something there."

"He'd better not take too long," Fantine said as she picked up two slices of bread and headed out across the narrow courtyard behind the house towards a squat building that was meant to be a porter's lodge. She sighed on seeing the darkened windows; for reasons that they always argued about, Jean Valjean insisted on sleeping here yet never kept a fire in these apartments. She knocked once on the door. "It's only Fantine."

Jean Valjean opened the door immediately. "Is everything well, Fantine?" he asked as he let her in.

"In the house, yes," Fantine said as she handed him a slice of bread. "Why don't you put a fire in here, or better yet, come inside the house?"

Jean Valjean sighed kindly. "I am accustomed to this."

Fantine shook her head. "Being accustomed to something doesn't always mean it's good for someone," she pointed out. She had to admit that Jean Valjean was stronger than most men his age, perhaps even stronger than most men as a whole. He was largely unchanged from their days at the Estrapade: his white hair showed no sign of thinning, his hands were steady, and his mind as sharp as ever, but Fantine knew better than to remain wholly confident in that fact. "I heated up some water in the kitchen. Will that convince you to come in then?"

"For a little while," he said before following her back towards the main house. He smiled proudly as he gestured to the newly laid paving stones that formed a path in the yard. "Victor took charge of laying these out."

"He's quick. Maybe he doesn't like books as much as Cosette does but nothing escapes his notice," Fantine agreed as they went into the kitchen. "I always worry we aren't doing enough for him, or even for Cosette. We've taught them to read, write, do sums and some other useful things, but it's not entirely enough for them to get on, or for Victor to get to the Sorbonne one day."

Jean Valjean nodded pensively. "We cannot send either of them away to school. It would not do to have a tutor come here, or to have a full time governess."

"Maybe we can find someone who can take them on for lessons during the day," Fantine suggested a little wistfully as she poured out two glasses of hot water for them. ' _Some steady old gentleman who can be patient enough to teach Victor philosophy, and a fine lady who can teach Cosette about dancing and music,'_ she thought. Yet where could such individuals be found, and even so, could they be trusted to remain discreet? "I'd ask Bahorel; he's a dear and Victor likes him very much but he's always at some business of his," she said.

"Perhaps he would know someone at the university," Jean Valjean suggested. He paused to take a sip of his drink. "What about Mabeuf?"

"Maybe. We can visit him at the Austerlitz and ask," Fantine said more brightly. "As for Cosette, well I know that Zephine and I can teach her, but it's not very much. And ever since Zephine stopped sewing, she's been a little peevish."

"You are hoping for someone like Sister Simpllice was," Jean Valjean said thoughtfully.

"Yes. Like her," Fantine replied, feeling a pang at the mention of their old friend. ' _How is she doing after all this time? Is she well?'_ she wondered. It had been impossible to write back to Montreuil-sur-mer, for one misplaced letter would doom them all. ' _Yet there was nothing in the way of obituaries, ever, or Monsieur Valjean would have said so,'_ she reminded herself even as she heard Cosette's footsteps approaching the kitchen. "What is it, darling?" she asked her daughter.

"Maman, Grandfather, may Victor and I go with Eponine to the Luxembourg?" Cosette asked, clasping her hands in a sweet and cajoling attitude. "It's only for a short promenade and we'll wrap up well against the cold, I promise!"

Fantine sighed as she looked outside; the afternoon was bright for January but the wind was brisk. ' _Surely it can't do any harm,'_ she decided. "Would you mind if we went with you?"

Cosette shook her head. "I'd like you to."

"Truly?" Jean Valjean said incredulously.

Cosette smiled. "We can go by Saint-Germain. There are lovely things I saw there. It's almost your birthday Maman, and you should have something. It's nearly also the Feast of the Three Kings, Grandfather, and we ought to be cheery."

"Let's go then," Fantine said, smiling at the thought of an unexpected shopping trip. She sighed as she heard Cosette race upstairs, presumably to get ready for their walk. "Monsieur Valjean, it's only for a bit of a walk. You know how much this means to Cosette and how much she hates being inside nowadays," she whispered.

"It's funny; last year when we'd suggest going on promenades, she'd want to go home right away," Jean Valjean pointed out.

Fantine shrugged. "You can go as a bourgeois grandfather, I'll go as a modest little matron, and no one will ask questions," she said. This was the most maddening facet about their enforced secrecy; they never could go out for long, and even so they never dared to act their ages or proper stations. ' _Even in old days, Felix never used to hide me so!'_ she thought petulantly. Sometimes, she wondered how it would be to speak to Jean Valjean differently, perhaps to drop the pretence that he was her relative. ' _Does he ever wonder about that same thing too?'_ she couldn't help asking herself.

Jean Valjean finished his drink of water before speaking again. "There have been several riots in the past month alone. Matters are playing out too dangerously again, Fantine," he said concernedly. "It's not just for Cosette I worry for now, but Victor."

"He has you to keep him safe."

"Yes, but I am an old man, and he will look to his friends more."

"But he will always come home to us, emeute or no," Fantine insisted. She clasped Jean Valjean's arm. "We cannot keep him inside forever, no more than we can shut away Cosette from her friends. I cannot look after him alone then, not with those two girls to watch out for!"

Jean Valjean was silent for a few moments before he clasped her hand in return. "I will be ready in a few minutes," he said a little more cheerily.

"There that wasn't such a bad thing!" Fantine said more light-heartedly before going to her own chamber on the second floor, beside Cosette's room. Victor had a room on the ground floor, and was perfectly willing to give it up in favor of the attic if Jean Valjean wanted to sleep in the house, but the old man refused this offer. ' _It isn't right that he does a great deal for us, and yet won't be cared for very much,'_ she thought as she found a warm cape and a pretty bonnet adorned with a single flower to go with her pink day dress. ' _I'm no longer that young and shouldn't be too showy,'_ she reminded herself even as she heard Cosette and Eponine's laughter and chatter from the next room.

When Fantine headed downstairs, Jean Valjean and Victor were already waiting in the front room. "There, we only have half an hour to wait," Victor said as he tapped his pocket watch. "Each lady takes a quarter," he explained cheekily to Jean Valjean and Fantine.

"Some dandies are even worse, you imp!" Eponine protested as she and Cosette hurried down the stairs. Eponine had thrown on a green velvet cape simply to conceal her worn garments, but had her long hair pinned up in knots. "I'm too long for everything else," she said as she shoved her feet back in the shoes she had on earlier.

' _Someone should take her and Azelma to a good modiste,'_ Fantine thought, but she knew better than to suggest this outright to Eponine. In the meantime she glanced at Cosette, who was adjusting her own purple attire. "We'll have to be back before dark," she reminded her as she helped her tie her cape.

Cosette nodded. "We don't plan to dally anyway, just to look."

Fantine heard Victor scoff audibly at this. ' _It's never just looking,'_ she thought, but she bit her tongue as they walked out the door. There was never a way after all to explain this womanly pastime.

It was not a day for a meandering stroll, so their little party went by the quickest way possible first to Saint-Germain, where they made a few purchases, and then they went to the park. Cosette and Victor endeavoured to be cheery so as to make Jean Valjean laugh as they kept in step with him. Eponine was silent, neither in happy reverie nor in serious contemplation. Fantine then lagged behind the merry trio, in an effort to draw the younger girl aside.

Eponine noticed this and gave Fantine a sharp look. "You need not concern yourself with me."

"I've known you since you were only about that high," Fantine reminded her. "Where is your family staying?"

"In the neighbourhood of the Salpetriere," Eponine replied with a diffident shrug. "I don't s'pose you know that quarter."

"I've hardly ever been there," Fantine admitted. "How long have you been there?"

"A week, two maybe," Eponine said. She rubbed her hands before hiding them in the folds of her borrowed cape. "Sometimes I think it's warmer when I'm running about outside instead of staying especially when there's no fire. I'd like to have at least a candle so I could see a little, but it's impossible to really have one since it's so damp. Yesterday Maman found another hole in our blanket. Papa was so angry that it didn't cover his feet."

Fantine shuddered at this sketch. "If there's anything that Monsieur Fabre and I can do for you-"

Eponine laughed mirthlessly. "You can help but that doesn't mean we'll take it," she said before walking ahead to catch up with Cosette.

Fantine bit the inside of her cheek as she quickened her steps to keep up with Jean Valjean. That old foreboding was there once again, and somehow she figured she could only banish it if she spoke to Lisette Thenardier. ' _That will mean going into that quarter,'_ she realized with a shudder. But if she could go into the area of the Austerlitz to speak to Mabeuf on behalf of her two young ones, perhaps she could take a detour for a former companion.

They stayed at the Luxembourg for around two hours, by which time the clouds were beginning to hide the sun, making the chilly air that much deeper. Fantine rubbed her aching fingertips in an effort to keep them warm even as she noticed Victor sitting on his hands and the two girls huddling close. "There's a cafe near here to get warm," she suggested, remembering a little bit of her old strolls in the area.

"What cafe?" Cosette asked.

"I'm not sure what the name is, but I think it's in the area of the Rue de Gres," Fantine said, pointing towards the east end of the promenade.

Eponine tapped her feet. "Hmm, that's not very far off."

"Now I'm hungry," Victor said, rubbing his stomach.

Jean Valjean nodded as he adjusted his hat. "Perhaps we can stay for a little while," he concurred as he offered his arm to Fantine.

Fantine couldn't hide her victorious smile as she slipped her arm around Jean Valjean's elbow. She saw Victor impishly squeeze himself between Cosette and Eponine, making a show of looping his arms around theirs. Fantine laughed, feeling almost as giddy as she did on many a spring day sixteen or so years ago. She wondered if any of the people they passed in the street may have been acquaintances from those long gone days, and if somehow she would be recognized. ' _What would they say if they saw me now?'_ she thought, feeling a sudden rush of contentment.

They exited the park onto the Place Saint-Michel, which was bustling with hawkers and beggars hassling carriages or occasionally the better dressed pedestrians. There was a little cafe on the side of the square abutting the Rue de Gres. A couple of police officers were smoking near the entrance. "Are you joining the party in there?" one of them called to Fantine.

"No, only stopping in," Fantine replied dismissively as they squeezed into the cafe entrance and found seats in a far corner. The front room was packed with students, workingmen, and grisettes, so much that a trio of young men had decided to exit via a back door. A group of students, or at least they seemed to be judging by the huge tomes stacked up on the table in front of them, were involved in an intense discussion. Others were drinking, playing card games, flirting with the pretty girls, or talking loudly about a variety of subjects.

"Look at those, probably came straight from the Necker or some hospital," Victor muttered as he pointed to some young men walking by the cafe. "They practically smell of it."

"How would you know?" Cosette asked. "Oh dear, one of them has a skull..." she said, pointing to a round shape tucked under one of the rascals' arms.

"There's Monsieur Bahorel!" Eponine whispered, pointing to where their brash friend was sauntering by amid a group of elegantly dressed fellows. "Wonder if he'll stop in here?"

"It's rude to point," Fantine admonished. She watched quietly as Bahorel simply walked past the cafe and went in the general direction of the Rue de Gres. ' _Probably has some business with those friends,'_ she decided as she listened to Jean Valjean give instructions to the server, who returned after a few minutes with some coffee and bread.

As Fantine sipped her drink, she noticed that the cafe did not seem to get any more crowded than when they entered. Now and then a man or two left, usually by the front door though there were a few who departed via the passage at the back. One young dandy in the group of students cracked a raucous joke with his companions as he scooped up a fine hat then sauntered out through this rear doorway. A couple of minutes later a taller, handsome student with golden hair also stood up from this group and clasped his seatmates' shoulders before making a more solemn exit through the front door and then heading in the direction of the Rue de Gres.

"I've seen some of these smooth faces about," Victor snickered. "Not bad with muskets; they didn't shoot themselves in the feet in that argument with Charles the Tenth!"

"Careful with that talk," Jean Valjean warned.

"I've seen them all before! They are comrades," Victor pointed out.

' _And would have run out to join them if we hadn't shut the doors,'_ Fantine thought with a shudder. Those had been terrible days, during which she lay awake listening for musket fire and marching in the streets, afraid that at any moment a bullet would shatter the windows and injure the youngsters, or that their house would be stormed for some reason or another. She knew she was not the only mother to breathe a sigh of relief on hearing of the Duc d'Orleans' taking the reins. ' _Never again, God, please!'_ she prayed silently.

It was at that moment that she saw a thin figure, clearly a gamin, darting across the Place Saint-Michel, only to be stopped by a burly policeman alighting from a fiacre. A shout came from the area of the Rue de Gres as still more gendarmes approached the door of the cafe. "The windows! Everyone out through the windows!" a panicked girl shrieked as footsteps sounded from elsewhere in the cafe.

"On the floor and under the table, all of you!" Jean Valjean muttered. Fantine lost no time in dropping to her knees and moving so as to hide Cosette from view as the other customers began fleeing the premises. Eponine was attempting valiantly to keep Victor from jumping up and joining the commotion, and only succeeded when Jean Valjean helped her keep a grip on the boy.

Suddenly someone pushed aside the table such that it very nearly crashed into the wall. "Go out through the side window!" Bahorel hissed. "I'll provide a diversion!"

"What-"Fantine gasped a mere moment before their friend and some other young men bounded towards where a gendarme had just barged into the cafe. Before she could leap to her feet and follow her companions, something crashed into her and she fell hard against a table. Through the haze of pain she heard a shriek and she looked up to see a policeman cornering Cosette against the corner nearest the doorway.

"Get away from her!" Fantine shouted as she jumped up and shoved the gendarme away from her daughter. "Cosette, go now!"

"Maman-"Cosette cried out before a grisette practically bundled her out of the cafe door. "Maman, look out!"

Before Fantine could dash after them, a pair of gendarmes seized her by her arms and dragged her to the center of the room. She kicked and screamed until one of the men roughly covered her mouth with his hand. "Let go of me!" she yelled as she twisted away from his grip.

"That will depend if you cooperate, Madame," a stocky man in an inspector's uniform growled as he entered the cafe. He looked around the room, which was now a confusion of overturned tables, shattered glasses, and abandoned books. "Where are the others?" he barked.

"Still running about, Inspector Perrot," one exhausted gendarme wheezed. "Damned buggers must have heard we were coming!"

The inspector gritted his teeth before looking at Fantine. "Where did you tell the girl to go?"

"Home. Please, don't do anything to her. She's my daughter, we were just passing through to get warm, we didn't know what was happening here," Fantine said, fighting to keep calm even as she saw that Jean Valjean, Cosette, Victor, and Eponine were all nowhere in sight. ' _If they saw the others go, we're lost,'_ she realized, and so she bit her lip lest she betray them.

"A likely story!" the inspector barked.

Fantine fell to her knees and grasped the inspector's feet. "I swear we had nothing to do with the trouble. You have to let us go," she begged. "Please, I'll do anything."

The inspector looked down at her. "Anything?"

Fantine managed a nod. ' _If only to give them time to get away, or think of how to explain all of this,'_ she thought as she struggled to her feet and braced for yet another round of questions.


	12. Chapter 12: The Denizens of the House of Hades

**Chapter 12: The Denizens of the Home of Hades**

Eponine Thenardier did not run, but merely relocated. All she needed was that split second to wriggle through the window of the cafe, only to end up in a back alley that reeked of refuse and mud. "Cosette! Madame Fantine!" she called in a low whisper. There was no need to call for M. Fabre and Victor, for she'd seen them make their escape, but out the door. As for Bahorel, he was nowhere in sight.

A cry came from the far end of the alley. "Let me go! My Maman is still inside!" Cosette shouted as she tried to wrench free from the grip of a grisette who was dragging her away from the cafe.

Eponine winced for a moment before running to where Cosette was still pleading with the other girl. "Cosette, we can't do anything but wait!" she snapped as she grabbed her friend. "I'm sorry, she's in a state of shock," she said to the grisette.

"I don't blame her," the grisette said as she rubbed her forearms. She was a fine-looking woman with deep eyes and dark curls. Her cheeks were dimpled, giving her an air that was coy as opposed to haughty. She looked about before motioning for Cosette and Eponine to follow her to another part of the Place Saint-Michel. "Can't have them seeing us either; that would only start too many questions."

"Them?" Cosette repeated. "What did the police want upstairs?"

The grisette shook her head. "It's not our concern."

Eponine gritted her teeth as she thought back on the faces she'd seen at the cafe. ' _One man went out through the back, the other through the door,'_ she recalled. Given that the place had been populated by students, there were a few distinct possibilities that came to mind. "So what are they saying now about the old pear-head?" she whispered.

A slightly shocked smile spread over the grisette's face before she quickly resumed her blasé expression. "Be careful where you ask that. You don't want to end up in Saint-Lazare, do you?"

' _Wouldn't be surprised if I eventually do,'_ Eponine thought but before she could come up with a quip to illustrate this she heard footsteps pelting down the alley. "Victor!" she called.

The boy wiped his face, which was streaked with mud and spilled coffee. "Maman is out. They won't take her to the police house or anything," he said.

"Where is she now?" Cosette asked as she fumbled for her handkerchief to wipe Victor's face.

"With Grandfather," Victor said, making a jerking motion with his thumb.

"You really look like a  _gavroche_  when you do that," Eponine muttered. Sometimes she was not sure what to say or do around this boy, who had a familiar face and yet such different manners. ' _Like he's neither my brother nor Cosette's,'_ she thought as she looked around the square, but she could not see either M. Fabre or Fantine. "You two should go. Tell your mother and your grandfather that I'm safe and I had to hurry home," she told Cosette and Victor.

"Are you sure, Ponine?" Cosette asked concernedly.

Eponine merely nodded before pulling the cape more tightly around her. It was understood that she would simply return the garment some other day. "See you soon," she said to the Fabres before hurrying after the grisette, who was walking off in the general direction of the Place du Pantheon. ' _She clearly knows those boys,'_ she mused, only to have her notion confirmed when she saw this woman rush into the arms of a bespectacled student carrying a ratty looking bag for holding medical supplies. She considered doubling back to view the scene of the raid or perhaps to track down Bahorel and find out what was going on, but she thought better of it and instead turned south towards the Barriere de Italie.

It was a long way to her intended destination, but Eponine soon found herself running instead of walking in order to get away from the biting chill of the early evening. Now and then she cast a glance over her shoulder just to watch the bright lights of the Latin Quartier grow dimmer and dimmer behind her. "I could use a lamp that stays with me," she muttered as she looked up only to find that the moon was almost completely obscured by thick clouds.

As soon as she was past the Rue d'Orleans, Eponine paused to catch her breath as well as to look about to make sure that no one was on her trail. She bit her lip as she looked ahead towards the darkened suburb of Marche-aux-Chevaux. There were so few streetlamps here such that whole portions of the street were pitch-black, and what parts of the street that had illumination were still so dim such that Eponine was sure that the shadows sometimes moved on their own accord. She clenched her fists before taking a deep breath and ran down the street, taking a left first, and then running a little way to turn to the right, and taking a few more turns this way till she found herself on the Rue des Cornes. There was a squat smoky cookhouse in this vicinity, and despite the reek of scorched roasts and tobacco, she slipped into the building's taproom.

Her avid eyes immediately found a handsome dark-haired figure seated in a corner, idly tapping a billystick against the tabletop. "Did they leave you behind again, Montparnasse?" she greeted as she sat atop the table right in front of him. In the flickering lights of the taproom it was easy to forget how threadbare his coat and gloves really were, or that his shoes were in need of blacking.

Montparnasse's red lips curved upwards in a wolfish grin as he laid eyes on her. "This time I'll be the one doing the leaving if they aren't here in an hour." He reached over to pinch the neckline of her cape. "Nice get-up. If only it didn't belong to the Fabre girl, it would fit you better."

"Can't help what I got from Maman," Eponine said, making a show of wiggling her gangly arms and legs. It was just one way to answer Montparnasse's backhanded teasing about her height. "Have you seen her or Zelma?"

"No, only your old man," Montparnasse replied. He beckoned for her to lean in closer, to the point that she could smell the cheap wine on his breath. "Babet is not happy. Your father's letters are tripping up our way again."

"Not my fault that we like to meet the swells in the front door while you like to break into the windows," Eponine said as she crossed her arms. "I can't do anything if all the folks with money are in one place."

"You're the one who knows those in those snug places. Can't you get a hint from them or a name at least?" Montparnasse asked.

"I'm not getting the Fabres in on this. I've told you so before," she said firmly. The events of the evening only made her more resolved to keep her friends out of both ends of the shadowy business. "Besides they are Latin Quartier folk and they don't know anyone else outside. There's hardly much picking here; you've always had better luck in the Temple."

"You do not know where to look."

"Maybe you could toss a rich student my way."

"You don't know how to get either," Montparnasse pointed out as he spun his billystick. "If that's what you're looking for, there is a  _much_  easier way to go about it, and more satisfying too, I hear."

Had Eponine been of the easily affronted sort, she would have slapped Montparnasse or deliberately scrunched his curled hair out of place. In fact, the smug grin he was giving her almost begged for this sort of treatment. Instead she coolly grabbed the other end of his billystick between two of her fingers. "I s'pose you could do it too; there are people who'd gladly throw francs  _your_  way for it."

Montparnasse swore as he pulled the weapon away from her. "I'm not that sort of man."

"I'm not that sort of girl either," Eponine retorted. The very idea made her shiver as if the coldest wind had suddenly passed through the cookhouse, even as she averted her gaze from some of the tawdrily dressed ladies on the premises.

The dandy laughed as he regarded her. "You're little better. There's no difference between a woman who sells herself for several francs a night, and one who wants to be wedded for several thousand."

"Stop that." She felt Montparnasse's smooth fingers trailing over the heavy fabric of her borrowed cape, dangerously close enough to part its folds and gain access to her threadbare blouse underneath. Before she could lean into his cool touch, she heard a coarse laugh from the middle of the room. She shut her eyes, hoping against all hope that her ears were tricking her, but the rich yet grating accent that filled the room denied her this notion.

Montparnasse rolled his eyes. "There goes your father."

Eponine nodded before slipping off the table and unfastening her cape. "Hide this," she told Montparnasse before shoving the cape at him and then sauntering up to where her father was regaling some card players with a yarn about Waterloo. "Good evening Papa," she greeted.

M. Thenardier spun around in his chair. "What are you doing here, my girl?" he asked in a tone that was both chagrined and kindly.

"Telling you that I spoke to the lady and she said nix," Eponine said.

"Where have you been the whole day after?" M. Thenardier asked.

"Going about," Eponine replied innocently. She could not tell him that she'd been with the Fabres; not only would her father berate her for 'gossiping all day' with Cosette, he had acquired an unfortunate tendency for following up  _her_  visits with polite calls of his own.

M. Thenardier glared at her. "Don't let me hear you've been making eyes at those students in the Place du Pantheon. It's not proper behaviour for a Thenardier."

Eponine gritted her teeth as she glanced at Montparnasse, who mouthed ' _No, at the Sorbonne,'_ before plastering an oafish smile on his handsome face. She looked back at her father, who was listening to a bawdy anecdote. "We should bring something back for Maman and Azelma," she said.

"The food will be cold by the time you get to them. Tell them to come here," M. Thenardier said.

' _I'll catch my death running back and forth on a night like this!'_ Eponine thought with dismay. Nevertheless she knew that what francs her father had on hand would be enough for a meal for their family, and hopefully that meal would be good for several days or at least till some benefactor would look their way. She backed off, retrieved her cape from Montparnasse, and bit the inside of her cheek as she headed back outside.

By the time Eponine reached the Rue du Petit-Banquier, her hands were already beginning to tingle and sting from the cold. As she dashed into the yard of a rundown, mismatched looking hovel, her hand was already fumbling for a pin she kept in the sleeve of her blouse. She used this to pick the lock on the front door of this tenement; the pin served as her passkey and an occasional ornament. The door creaked open to admit her into a tiny space that was dominated by a dreary and damp staircase. Eponine quietly tiptoed her way upstairs and into a long corridor with various doors on either side. ' _It's better than the streets,'_ she reminded herself. This hovel was so dank and dismal such that most tenants did not stay long; in fact their last neighbor, a shy, dark haired boy who was supposed to be either a lawyer or a baron, had moved out a week ago.

She headed straight for the door at the far end of this passage and knocked twice before pushing her way into a dark cell. The fireplace here was piled high with ashes and she had to pull her cape more tightly around her for warmth as she tiptoed over to two pallets in the corners. "Maman! Azelma!" she whispered as she crouched beside two apparently dozing figures.

Azelma sat up quickly on one of the pallets, nearly knocking her head on a beam that jutted out above her bed. She paused to run her hands through her matted black hair. "Ponine, where have you been all day?" she asked.

"Out. Come on, put on a skirt over that chemise. Papa wants us to go out for dinner," Eponine said.

A rustling sound came from the other pallet. "Right now, my treasure?" Mme. Thenardier asked.

"Yes. It's going to be a big one," Eponine replied. ' _She's almost exactly in the same way as when I left this morning,'_ she realized. Now that her eyes were more adjusted to the gloom, she saw that a bowl and a crock were lying by the fireplace. "You already ate?"

"Potatoes and onions. The last of them," Azelma said. "I'm not hungry anymore, Ponine."

' _Liar,'_ Eponine thought. If she stayed long enough, she was sure she could hear her sister's stomach growling. "Maman? What about you?"

Mme. Thenardier did not say anything as she smoothed out the rumpled apron that had served also as her blanket. "Are there many people there?" she asked. She was in an even more languid and begrimed state than Azelma was: her uncombed hair resembled a red bush running wild, her cheeks were not red with cold but smudged with soot, and her hands still smelled of scorched oil.

"Yes. That's a good thing I s'pose," Eponine replied.

Mme. Thenardier heaved a deep sigh. "You girls go on if you want to. I'm not hungry either and I have a pain in my head."

"Oh Maman, it's much warmer there than it is here," Eponine pleaded. "There are nice people there, and there must be  _something_  you'll like to eat there. It may be good for your headache."

Mme. Thenardier tried combing her hair with her fingers but gave up the effort after a few moments. She lay back down before looking again at her daughter. "I'll go next time. Maybe tomorrow. Have a good time, my dear"

' _That's what she said last time,'_ Eponine thought. She looked to Azelma, who seemed to merely watch this scene impassively. "Zelma? Are you coming?"

"I'll stay with Maman," Azelma finally said. "You'd better run back before Papa gets angry."

Eponine nodded before going to a chair where she'd thrown an old mantle. "You can use this as a blanket. I have one of my own," she said as she tossed the tattered cloak to her sister. ' _Not mine really, but I can pretend it is for a little while,'_ she thought as she rubbed her hands for warmth. She pressed her hands to her face to make the best of the heat before getting to her feet and slipping out of the cell. She smiled when she saw a sliver of pale light streaming in through a crack in the roof; somehow the clouds had begun to clear and the moon was out.

She was halfway down the corridor when a creaking sound pierced through the darkness, making her halt moment.  _'It's probably just the wind making the doors shake,'_ she told herself; there were far too many drafts in this tenement and the doors were quite loose at their hinges. As she hurried down the stairs, she heard what sounded like footfalls coming from downstairs. Just before she reached the landing halfway down, she caught sight of a person hurrying upstairs. Instead of stepping aside, she instead jumped down the last two steps just to be able to accost this stranger on the landing.

The stranger looked her way, clearly startled by the sound of her feet. "Who's there?"

Eponine looked up into the face of a tall, slender young man who seemed to have forgotten his overcoat in this bitterly cold weather, at least judging by the fact that he had on a dark coat over a brighter waistcoat and an untied cravat. It was too dark for her to get a good look at his eyes, but the moonlight still showed his strong profile and his messy golden hair. It was enough for her to hazard a guess. "I saw you at the cafe," she blurted out.

The young man's hand tightened on the banister. "Once again, who are you?" he demanded sternly.

"No one of consequence to you, I s'pose," she replied. "You were with those students. You walked past me on your way out—I was with that family in a corner. I saw you. Everyone did too."

The student tried to push past her. "Let me through."

"It's terribly cold upstairs, are you sure you want to go there?" she asked. She saw him hesitate, as if taken aback or at least baffled at her words. "You're here because you're hiding from the  _cognes_."

" _Cognes_?" he asked.

"The gendarmes," Eponine clarified.

"This is none of your business, Citizenness," he muttered before making a second attempt to evade her. In response she stepped back so that she was blocking off the stairway entirely. He gritted his teeth before looking right at her. "What do you want?"

"For you to be careful, Monsieur whatever you want to be called," Eponine said quickly. She bit her lip to catch herself before she let slip something potentially incriminating. "Maybe it's none of my business what you're doing here but it becomes a problem when you disturb quiet ones like us."

"I do not intend to abide here long," the young man said. "This is only a temporary address."

"That's all well and good for you, Monsieur, you can afford to remove," Eponine said under her breath as she finally stepped aside. "Good evening to you," she added only to have the young man nod curtly by way of reply before continuing on his way upstairs. She watched him go and listened till his footsteps faded in the passage; she deduced that he also lived in the far end of the corridor. ' _What an odd one!'_ she thought as she ran the rest of the way downstairs and headed outside, taking care not to slam the front door.

When she returned to the cookhouse at the Rue des Cornes, the place was still full but Montparnasse was nowhere in sight. M. Thenardier was still drinking at a table, but now with a different set of card players. "Papa, where did Montparnasse go?" Eponine asked him.

"With the others," M. Thenardier said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He has better things to do than to chat with you, and you shouldn't bother yourself with the likes him. Where is your mother?"

"She wasn't feeling well," Eponine replied.

M. Thenardier cursed under his breath. "She chose a fine time to be ill! Imagine, just when I had a stroke of luck!" He fished in his coat for several sous, which he cast in Eponine's direction. "Go get yourself something to eat."

Eponine managed to catch one coin and had to search on the floor for the rest. ' _Four sous,'_ she counted silently. Hopefully there would still be enough to bring some bread or a drink back for her mother and Azelma. After she haggled with the proprietor of the cookhouse and found a better seat, she noticed her father elbowing his way into a discussion with an elderly man dressed as if he was in full mourning.  _'What sort of business is bringing people down here nowadays?'_ she wondered, keeping her eyes fixed on this scene while mulling over her encounter with the strange student in the hall.


	13. Chapter 13: Oh Mother Who Bore Me

**Chapter 13: Oh Mother Who Bore Me**

"My dear, they are still so young!"

"On the contrary the younger the better! They'll be useless if they turn into hags!"

"They're our daughters! How could you say such a thing?"

As these words intruded into Eponine's dreams, she plugged her ears with her fingers in a last-ditch effort to fall asleep. Next to her, Azelma groaned and squirmed as she pulled their makeshift blanket over her head. "What are they talking about, Ponine?" the younger Thenardier girl whispered.

"Something to do with us, obviously," Eponine murmured crossly. Seeing that sleep would continue to evade her, she made a show of stretching and rubbing her eyes. "Good morning Maman. Good morning Papa," she greeted as she sat up to look at her parents, who were both crouched by the hearth.

"There, you're finally awake you lazy thing," M. Thenardier chided. "Wake up Azelma. I have something important for you two to do today."

Eponine poked her sister's ribs, earning her a curse and a swat to her hand. She got to her feet and tried not to wince at the cold that seeped in from between her toes to up her shins. "What do we have for breakfast?" she asked distractedly.

"You listen up and you won't have to worry about breakfast for much longer," M. Thenardier snapped. He tossed down two five franc pieces. "Get yourselves two good dresses at the Temple. Nothing shabby now, you have to look respectable!"

"Are we going to the theater?" Azelma asked as she gingerly picked up a coin, almost as if she was afraid it would burst into flame between her fingers.

"Bah! Is that all you can think about?" M. Thenardier sneered. "We will soon be visiting Monsieur Verdier, who is interested in meeting one of you."

"A rich gentleman," Mme. Thenardier said, managing a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "He is looking for a wife."

Eponine clutched at the wall for support even as she vaguely heard Azelma dropping the coin. "A wife? Whatever for?" she blurted out.

"Who cares what reason that man may have? At least he's offering a respectable situation," M. Thenardier growled. "Think of me and your mother. We're old and we cannot keep you here forever!"

Eponine looked to Azelma, who appeared to be on the verge of fainting. ' _Papa will force me first, I'm older,'_ she thought. Yet it occurred to her that her father needed her somewhat for his  _other_  schemes, and therefore would be more willing to dispense with Azelma in this fashion. "Papa, are you sure it's quite legal? Zelma is only fifteen, and I'm not seventeen till April," she said.

"It will not matter in time. Now get dressed and stop wasting time!" M. Thenardier ordered. He looked to his wife and nodded. "I need you to come with me for today."

Mme. Thenardier gaped at him as if he had declared that the monarchy had suddenly turned into a Republic. "To go outside, my dear?"

"Where else?" M. Thenardier said. "You have to dress up too and inspire confidence!"

Mme. Thenardier nodded despairingly. "Then I will be ready in a few moments," she said before going to a heap of clothes in a corner. She pulled out a huge green tartan shawl and a black bonnet with drooping feathers. "You girls take the capes," she said, gesturing to the one that had been their blanket as well as the velvet cape that Eponine had borrowed from Cosette.

"Wait a moment, Maman," Azelma said as she took the bonnet. She snapped some of the feathers that hung down from the hat. "There, so it won't droop so and get in the way."

Eponine did not say anything but she looked to her mother and shook her head. ' _Maman, please don't let him,'_ she begged silently, not daring to raise her further objections in her father's hearing. She felt something sink in her chest when Mme. Thenardier sighed deeply. "Must we?" she whispered.

"I only want you girls to be safe. He sounds kind; it might not be so bad," Mme. Thenardier said as she wrapped the tartan shawl over her skirt. Her movements were slow, as if she was wax or stone just forced into animation. "You'd better go; the market at the Temple opens soon."

Eponine bit her lip as she stuffed her feet into her leaky shoes and then threw on her borrowed cape. She ran her fingers through her hair in another attempt to tame it, or at least till she could look into the grimy windowpane and consider her reflection as somewhat passable. She looked to where Azelma was also trying to untangle her own tresses. "You'd best cover up using this," she said, tossing an old but relatively clean kerchief at her sister.

Azelma scowled before tying the rag around her hair. "You still need a hat, Ponine."

"Maybe I'll find one if we get lucky," Eponine said as she snatched up the money that their father had given them and stuffed the coins into her sleeve. On their way out she thought of knocking on the cells next to her family's den, but she thought the better of it. Most likely their new neighbor was still sleeping the late night off. As she headed out side, she could feel a gnawing emptiness in her stomach but she willed herself to ignore it; if she bought even just a little bit of bread, there would not be enough for their clothes. Hopefully Azelma would be able to hold up too till they could finish their errand.

Nevertheless despite their best efforts and a fair bit of haggling, Eponine and Azelma wound up spending nearly all the money on two rather oversized dresses, one in puce and the other in a darker cerulean, as well as two matching plain bonnets "We have to go home now and tuck them in, or we'll look like we put on sacks," Azelma said.

"It's too fussy for us to do on our own; we'll just end up ruining them," Eponine pointed out, gesturing to the voluminous sleeves of the dresses. There was after all a reason that neither of them had found employment as needlewomen. "We're going to the Rue Plumet."

"That's almost all the way across Paris!" Azelma protested.

"That's why we have to start walking now," Eponine retorted. At the very least they were making the trek by day, which made matters far more bearable. Nevertheless it was indeed a long way down the Rue du Temple to the neighbourhood of the Hotel de Ville and the Pont d'Arcole, and then to the Ile du Palais. Here, the two girls made a detour so that they crossed the river in the area of the Quai Conti and the Place Dauphine instead of the more straightforward crossing at Pont Saint-Michel; the latter route would take them past the Sorbonne, the Place du Pantheon, and of course a little bit too close to the Place Saint-Michel, which was sure to still be under watch. From here the Thenardier sisters took a roundabout route past the Abbaye Aux Bois, skipping the Rue de Babylone and the barracks here, and finally arriving at the Rue Plumet.

Over here they found Victor Fabre at the gate, feeding scraps to some half-starved cats. The boy grinned cheekily at Eponine and Azelma as he straightened up and wiped his hands on his trousers. "Good thing the police haven't frightened you hens away," he quipped.

Eponine tugged on his ears lightly. "Is your Maman busy?"

Victor glanced over his shoulder at the house. "She's got company coming, but she won't let me or Cosette help out with it. If you don't mind waiting-"

"Oh please let us in!" Azelma begged.

Victor made a ridiculous imitation of a manservant's bow before letting them in. Instead of going to the front room, as they were accustomed to, Victor ushered them upstairs. All the while Eponine could hear the telltale sound of cutlery in the kitchen combined with the gentle gurgling of boiling water. ' _What an odd luncheon!'_ she thought as they made their way to Cosette's room.

Cosette was busy embroidering yet another handkerchief but she threw her embroidery hoop aside the moment her door opened. "I was going to look for you two this afternoon if you sent no word!" she greeted as she hugged Eponine and then Azelma. "Your parents aren't angry about yesterday?"

"They don't know," Eponine said as she took off the cape. "Thank you for it. It was a little short but it got me through the night."

"Where's your grandfather?" Azelma asked the Fabres as they all found seats in the cozy room.

"He's visiting Monsieur Mabeuf at Austerlitz. You didn't see him on your way in?" Cosette replied.

Eponine shook her head. ' _Maybe he went by some other way,'_ she thought. "What happened after I had to go?" she asked.

Cosette's lively smile turned grave while Victor rolled his eyes. "Something that Maman and Grandfather won't tell us. It must have been horrible since I woke up late last night and heard them talking downstairs in the front room. Maman was crying so hard, something about 'keeping them safe', 'having to pretend', and 'not loving him'." She wrung her hands before looking at her friends. "It has to do with us—at least Victor and me. It was such a terrible idea to go walking yesterday!"

"No, the bad idea was going into that cafe," Victor pointed out. "We should have cleared out when we saw Bahorel and his friends in the neighbourhood."

Eponine bit her lip, knowing that Victor was correct. Bahorel had never made a secret of his anti-monarchist and now anti-Orleanist leanings, so it was a matter of time till he and any comrades of his would attract the attention of even the most obtuse police agent. She nearly laughed as she recalled the young man she'd accosted on the stairs; he was definitely the sort who was impossible to miss or even forget. ' _Looks like a tough one though; it won't be the cold that will drive him out,'_ she thought.

At that moment a light knock sounded on the door, signalling Fantine's entrance. She was dressed elegantly for one who was to stay at home: she had on a sky blue dress that was belted at the waist with a satin ribbon. She'd even gone as far as to wear matching slippers and to put her golden hair up in knots. "How are you four up here?" she asked kindly.

"Very well, Maman," Cosette said.

Fantine nodded before looking to the Thenardier girls. "I haven't seen you in a long time, Azelma," she said to the younger one.

"I like staying at home," Azelma said. "Ponine said you could help us."

"It's only to get these dresses altered, Madame Fantine," Eponine explained. "Papa says he's bringing us out for something nice."

Fantine nodded as she looked over the dresses that the girls had brought. "What about your Maman?"

"She has things of her own," Azelma chimed in.

Eponine had to keep a straight face as she recalled their mother's attire earlier that day. "Actually she  _might_ find something," she said. "I should wear that puce dress and Azelma the blue one?"

Fantine sighed and shrugged. "I'd rather see you wearing green since it would go better with your hair," she told Eponine before she motioned for her and Azelma to stand up straight. "Try on those dresses so we can see what has to be done."

Eponine waited for Victor to quit the room before she pulled the puce dress over her own clothing. ' _I bet Maman didn't look this horrid when she was my age,'_ she thought as she let Fantine tuck and pin the dress to see how it ought to be taken in to fit her skinny frame. By some trick of fate, Azelma had turned out into a more feminine and far less horrific likeness of their father, but Eponine had inherited the dark auburn hair and freckled looks of her mother's family, the Sorels. She gritted her teeth as she looked at herself in the mirror. How could even Montparnasse stand to lay eyes on her?

"I'll have the dresses ready for you tomorrow," Fantine said, breaking through Eponine's reverie. "If your mother comes with you, I can also alter something for her as well."

' _If we can get her to come along,'_ Eponine thought. "Thank you Madam Fantine. I only have four sous left though-"

Fantine shook her head. "Don't think anything of it." She looked to Cosette, who was going through her own closet. "I need you and Victor to get me some wool. I need to make a few more things for the church basket."

Cosette wheeled around, clearly startled at this errand. "Are you sure, Maman?"

"I have a lot to do today. Besides, I trust your choices," Fantine said. "It shouldn't take you two very long; I want you back here straightaway."

Cosette nodded confusedly before she laid out a pink dress as well as two others in dark green and lavender. "Please come with us?" she asked the Thenardier sisters.

Azelma nodded gleefully but Eponine hesitated on seeing the dresses, which were even finer than those she'd just brought. "I might dirty those."

"We're friends going on a stroll. I don't want anyone to think otherwise," Cosette said.

Only then Eponine nodded in assent; at any rate Cosette's dresses would be a lot warmer than her own rags. She and Azelma took the opportunity to clean up as best as they could with washcloths since there was no time to draw a full bath. Azelma insisted on having her hair braided and curled, but Eponine, already quite frustrated with her own unruly waves, was content to simply pin her hair back into a knot. Yet when Eponine put on the dark green dress and looked in the mirror, she found that she liked what she saw. ' _Almost a lady,'_ she thought, especially when she realized that she only had to smile to complete the effect.

Cosette was all gaiety as she made her toilette and helped out her friends, but as soon as they and Victor were out the door and at the corner of the Rue Plumet, her smile turned suspicious. "Maman  _never_  lets us pick the cloth," she remarked.

"Does it make any difference?" Victor asked.

"It makes  _all_ the difference," Cosette said. "That's why she wants to pick it out herself, usually, so she knows exactly what she's working with."

' _I'd do much the same if I was in that trade too,'_ Eponine mused "Where will we go?"

"Rue Ferou. That's where Maman always gets the cloth," Cosette replied, trying to sound calm but the worry was still evident in her voice. "Ponine, this isn't making sense, you can tell."

"Nothing makes sense anymore," Eponine said gloomily. She thought of mentioning her present predicament and the reason for the dresses, but she bit her lip. ' _Wouldn't do to have the Fabres asking even about that,'_ she thought as they walked on towards the Rue Ferou.

Their path brought them to a large, respectable looking shop on the corner of this street, just facing the famous park. It was clear in a moment why Fantine frequented this place; Zephine now had a position here, working the front counter. While Cosette busied herself talking with Zephine, Victor waited outside the shop door while Eponine and Azelma perused some of the ready-made gowns in the shop window. "The best places don't show their wares like this," Eponine noted. "The dressmakers keep them a secret, only for the rich ladies who can pay them."

Azelma glanced up from where she had been running her hands over a lacy skirt. "We used to have things at least half as nice, when Maman had time to make them."

' _Time isn't quite the problem,'_ Eponine thought even as she caught sight of a needlewoman rearranging a pelisse that had almost fallen to the floor. She studied this dark haired woman for a moment, up until she heard the grisette laugh merrily at some joke a roguish customer uttered. Eponine slipped away from where Azelma was still in raptures over another gown, and went over to this woman. "I didn't say thank you for last night, Mademoiselle," she greeted.

The grisette nearly started at the sound of Eponine's voice. "Do I know you?"

"Somewhat. You pulled me and my friend into an alley after that trouble in the cafe," Eponine replied.

The grisette's eyes flashed as she looked from Eponine to Cosette. "You've got a lot of nerve coming into this neighbourhood then."

"So do you."

"I work here. That is easier to explain away."

Eponine bit her lip as she met the grisette's eyes. She would have to drop a name, as risky as this practice usually was. "Do you know Monsieur Bahorel? He's an old friend."

The grisette nodded slowly. "He helped you and your friend escape from the cafe."

"Where can I find him?"

"I don't know where he'd be at this hour."

Suddenly Zephine made a whistling sound from the counter. "Musichetta! Please show Mademoiselle Fabre here our latest acquisitions," she called to the grisette who'd been conversing with Eponine.

"That would be my friend," Eponine said, gesturing to Cosette.

Musichetta glanced from Cosette to Eponine. "I need to talk with you later," she said before going off to assist Cosette.

' _What an operatic name,'_ Eponine noted as she watched Musichetta talking to Cosette. Perhaps it was only a sobriquet, but it was a pretty one which certainly suited the Romantic tastes of the students of the quartier. Before she could mull on this further she saw Victor enter the shop. "Shouldn't you be outside?" she asked him.

Victor shrugged. "I know her."

"Oh how now?"

"She lives with a medical student just up the street."

"She was at that cafe last night," Eponine said. "With them, I'm sure of it."

"She watches the front while the gentlemen talk of gunpowder in the back," Victor replied in a matter-of-fact tone. He waved to Musichetta, who was hurrying back now with Cosette in tow. "Good day to you, Mademoiselle Laurain."

Musichetta grinned at him. "You, I know. So you have a sister after all?"

Victor nodded. "How is everyone?"

"Still abed except for those who have duties and masters," Musichetta replied. She glanced about before motioning for the Fabres as well as the Thenardiers to follow her out of the shop and towards a cul de sac some way up the street. "The raid was very well planned. Someone sounded them out."

"And you think it was us?" Eponine asked accusingly.

"It never happened before," Musichetta retorted.

Cosette looked up with wide eyes. "It  _was_  us, but by mistake," she admitted. "A gendarme asked my mother if we were with the party inside, and she said that we weren't."

Musichetta sighed tersely. "That's only one possibility," she said before looking at the four youngsters. "You Fabres need to get clear, if you can. You girls too. The gendarmes might start looking elsewhere."

"Good God, what  _is_  going on?" Cosette asked as she looked at Victor. "Now even you?"

Victor hung his head guiltily. "I didn't want you or Grandfather to worry, and I knew Maman would be furious if I ran into trouble."

Azelma looked around uneasily as the Fabre siblings began arguing. "Ponine, maybe we should go home before Papa wonders where we are."

"He won't do that for a little bit longer," Eponine said. She looked to Musichetta, who was eyeing them intently. "We won't cause you any more trouble. I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Laurain."

"What name do you two go by?" Musichetta asked briskly.

Eponine paused, wondering what sobriquet to give out. ' _We're using Jondrette at the tenement, but maybe we're not known that way elsewhere,'_ she thought. She took a deep breath and looked at the seamstress. "We're Thenardiers."

To her surprise, an approving smile, almost one of recognition, spread over Musichetta's face. "Then you really are Bahorel's friends, and Victor's. Ponine and Zelma, isn't it?"

"It's Eponine and Azelma," the older Thenardier girl corrected.

"I'm sorry, but that's how I heard it before," Musichetta replied. She glanced over her shoulder to where Zephine was now looking up and down the Rue Ferou. "You two stay clear. I can't think of a reason you'd like to be involved in...this, but if you aren't willing to get shot for it, stay away."

"I s'pose you're right," Eponine said while Azelma merely nodded. ' _Don't ladies normally stay out of things like those?'_ she wondered. ' _Marianne is certainly a lady but it's only men who'd be allowed to raise a gun for her like in that painting,'_ she mused as she watched Musichetta speak to both Cosette and Victor before hurrying back to the shop.

Cosette took a deep breath as she looked at Victor apologetically. "You're the only brother I have, Victor. I know it's natural, but sorry if I do it a bit much."

"I'm sorry about lying. No secrets?" Victor offered.

Cosette nodded. She looked at the Thenardier sisters. "I'm really sorry about this."

"Better over this problem than something else," Eponine said. ' _Though what would they say at Saint-Lazare to this sort of trouble?'_ she wondered.

Cosette looked about. "Let's go back by way of the Luxembourg."

"Why, what's there?" Azelma asked. Much to their surprise Cosette didn't answer but resolutely headed down towards the promenade. It was nearly noon now, and the park was lively now with people strolling, chatting or attempting to have picnics, but much of the crowd consisted of people merely passing through.

It seemed as if Cosette had no particular object in going to the Luxembourg; the route she led them through was quite circuitous leading to the side of the Rue del'Ouest, but there was a determination in her eye that not even impetuous Eponine dared to cross. ' _There's hardly anyone here!"_ Eponine noted as she looked up and down this relatively quiet part of the promenade.

It was at this critical juncture that a gust blew up, sending among several things, a few leaves of paper flying through the air. A raven haired young man was in pursuit, desperately trying to gather these wayward sheets into a folio. The sight of him dashing about, with an old coat flapping off his arms, was so decidedly comical that Victor and Azelma burst out laughing. Cosette though immediately ran to his assistance while Eponine retrieved a page that got caught in a nearby bush.

"Thank you Mademoiselle," the young man said breathlessly when Cosette handed some pages to him. "I'm sorry for all the trouble."

"It's no trouble at all, but you're welcome though," Cosette said graciously. She smiled as she saw some of the pages that the man held out. "Are these for your studies, Monsieur?"

The young man shook his head even as a lovely blush crept onto his face. "I do translations and some paperwork for a publisher."

Eponine, who had just managed to extricate a paper from a branch, now looked on this scene incredulously. ' _She's seen him before,'_ she realized. It made perfect sense after all; the Luxembourg wasn't too distant from the Rue Plumet, many young men frequented the area or just passed through, so there was some chance or another that they'd espied each other before.

Azelma had stopped laughing and was now watching with interest, while Victor was scowling and gritting his teeth. "He seems decent enough!" Victor muttered, taking care not to be heard by Cosette and her conversation partner.

"Oh what would you know?" Eponine chided. While this young man was certainly not wealthy, he seemed to be kindly and even noble in bearing, there was something congenial about him that differentiated him from the likes of Montparnasse. On the whole though, she found him charming but unimpressive. ' _I wouldn't have given him a second glance if he'd been in that cafe last night,'_ she noted.

"Marius Pontmercy!" a voice shouted from somewhere else on the promenade. Everyone turned to see a slightly shorter man dressed at the height of fashion, save perhaps for his slightly dented hat. He had reddish brown hair, deep dimples in his cheeks, an expression best suited for laughter, and a stride that was confident but not arrogant. Eponine lowered her eyes at the sight of him; she had seen him too at the cafe.

The man named Marius looked about and blushed. "Good afternoon Courfeyrac."

"You're having a better one," Courfeyrac said, clapping Marius on the shoulder. "You have left my friend too awestruck. What is your name, Mademoiselle?"

"Cosette," the girl replied. "I'm with my brother Victor, and my friends Eponine and Azelma."

Victor saluted to Courfeyrac. "You'd better be careful, that's my  _sister_  there," he warned.

"Pontmercy here is my friend," Courfeyrac said, nodding to Victor. He grinned approvingly at Marius and Cosette before looking to the Thenardier girls. "Victor has done everyone a great disservice by neglecting to introduce you two."

"We rarely go out walking with him," Azelma replied.

"A shame," Courfeyrac quipped. He waved to someone else approaching them on the walkway. "You look like you've had a rough evening, my friend."

Eponine looked about and caught sight of a tall young man dressed in an elegant black frock coat over a maroon waistcoat. He was impossible to miss on the promenade owing to his height, his haughty bearing, as well as that messy golden hair which could not really be hidden even under a hat. Eponine knew better than to run, knowing that doing so would only betray her trepidation at seeing him again but this time under broad daylight.

The blond stranger lightly clapped Courfeyrac's shoulder before nodding cordially to Marius and Victor, and more cursorily to the girls. "Good to see you're well," he said. "Later, we need to make a visit."

Courfeyrac nodded understandingly. "Will Combeferre or Joly's assistance be necessary?"

"So it may seem," the newcomer said. "I heard that you were...present last night," he said to Victor.

"Was only stopping in, didn't mean to get in a race," Victor replied.

Courfeyrac laughed at this quip. "In the meantime, let's have more mannerly talk. Enjolras, meet Cosette, Azelma, and Eponine. Ladies, meet my long-time comrade."

Eponine made sure to look Enjolras in the face while the other girls murmured their greetings. Although for the most part his expression was stoic, she was able to detect a flicker of surprise and recognition in his blue eyes when he met her gaze. "It is good to properly meet you, Monsieur," she finally said.

Enjolras merely nodded at this remark. "It has been a long time, Pontmercy," he said to Marius, who was still conversing obliviously with Cosette.

Marius nearly jumped when Courfeyrac grabbed his shoulder to call his attention. "Enjolras is asking how you are," Courfeyrac explained.

"Oh. I've had a lot to manage at work," Marius said distractedly, looking first from Cosette, then to the rest of the group.

"If you have time, your assistance would be more than welcome," Enjolras told him.

' _With moving out perhaps,'_ Eponine couldn't help thinking now that she remembered that Enjolras had said that he hadn't planned to stay long at the Gorbeau tenement. Suddenly she felt Azelma tug on her sleeve. "What now?"

"Ponine, we're going to be in trouble," Azelma said through gritted teeth.

Before Eponine could ask why, hurried footsteps cut through the quiet of the park. "Cosette! Victor! What are you two doing here?" a voice snapped.

All eyes turned to see Fantine walking up to them, hands akimbo and her eyes dark in a way that hardly needed any interpretation.


	14. Chapter 14: The Proper Kind of Bourgeois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And the tale of misery continues. A warning here: this chapter will deal with the topic of a relatively underage character in a forced arrangement with another much older character. I do not mean to glorify this scenario.

**Chapter 14: The Proper Kind of Bourgeois**

Following the abruptly concluded visit to the Luxembourg, the Thenardier girls quickly returned home to the now quiet Gorbeau tenement. "I think we might have gotten Cosette and Victor into a lot of trouble," Azelma said remorsefully to her sister as they went up to their squalid cell.

"It was  _Cosette's_  idea to go to the park," Eponine reminded her as she slammed the door. She could almost see the wall shake as she did this, and for a moment she thought that the entire edifice would collapse on them. She crossed her arms as she looked about the chaotic hovel. What use would a fine dress be in such a mess? ' _What's the use of pretending to be such a lady in a place like this?'_ she wondered as she carefully took off her borrowed dress so as not to dirty it.

Azelma sighed as she began unlacing her own gown. "Do you think we'll see any of those young men again?" she asked wistfully.

"Hmph, maybe if we look about," Eponine groused. ' _Then again there's that odd fellow Enjolras,'_ she thought, but she shook her head as the image of this imposing yet captivating student came to mind. She knew that if her parents or any of their present associates knew that this young man was hiding in this part of town, she'd be given the job of casing him. ' _But if something happens to him, it will go badly for so many other people that we and the Fabres know,'_ she mused, remembering how Victor had been so familiar with Courfeyrac and Musichetta, as well as how Cosette had talked with Marius Pontmercy. It was clear even to her that Enjolras was of some importance in the other side of the underground, that side that professed to be more concerned with republics instead of thievery and murder.

"That young man Pontmercy was our former neighbor, wasn't he?" Azelma asked after a while.

Eponine shrugged. "He might have been. He looked it."

"I thought I heard someone last night from where his room used to be..." Azelma trailed off as she gestured to the right wall. "Didn't you hear it when you went out?"

"Could have been the wind," Eponine said dismissively.

"That wasn't the wind, Ponine," Azelma insisted. "You  _do_  know."

"And no one else should," Eponine snapped. She bit her lip when she saw Azelma's eyes widen with astonishment; now she would have to divulge something if only to get her sister off her back and to give her something to be prepared for in case their father came around to the matter. "The man living there is a fool who won't be of much use to us," she finally said.

"He's not rich?"

"I don't know."

Azelma sighed deeply. "Maybe we ought to find out before Papa gets home and asks."

"Zelma, if we get caught in an ambuscade there's not going to be much use for Papa's other plan and those dresses," Eponine pointed out. Inasmuch as it made her ill to even ponder the idea of a marriage to a complete stranger, she knew it was only marginally better than mouldering away in a prison cell.

Azelma's face twisted. "Do you think that Monsieur Verdier is nice?"

"Maybe nice enough to leave us alone," Eponine said as she lay back down on their pallet and stared at the cracked ceiling. She was sure that their parents were visiting this gentleman, perhaps to iron out a detail or another. ' _Maybe even to convince him a little further,'_ she thought, already resigning herself to waiting for them to come home. Yet hours passed and soon it was evening, but there was no sign of either of their parents. Eponine thought nothing of it; it wouldn't be the first time they'd disappeared for such a span of time, and anyway there were still some crumbs of bread to eat.

She did not notice when she and Azelma fell asleep, but the next thing she knew it was already morning, judging by the pale light that pierced past the thick grime on the windows. She could hear her mother's snoring in a corner as well as her father's muttering as he wrote at the rickety table. As quickly as she could she readied for the day, choosing to wear her best blouse and the warmest skirt she could find. "I'm picking up the dresses we bought. I had them altered a little," she told her father as she tied her ragged cloak around her shoulders and picked up the green dress she'd worn the day before. There would be another opportunity for Azelma to return her dress.

M. Thenardier looked up from his writing. "Be back at nightfall. We're seeing M. Verdier."

"Must we?" Eponine blurted out. She clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw her father's eyes narrow at her with evident displeasure. "Aren't there other fine girls, proper bourgeoisie—"

"You'll be as fine as I say so," M. Thenardier growled. "You're just as stupid as your mother with those romance stories."

Eponine bit her lip at this jibe, even as she cast a glance towards her mother's still slumbering form. "I won't marry him."

"Eponine, don't be selfish," M. Thenardier retorted. "I'm doing my best to provide for your future, and the least you and your sister can do is cooperate."

"But Papa—"

"Enough of this! Go do your errands, and don't look like such a slattern about it!"

The girl took a few deep breaths before striding out of the room and shutting the door. She ran down the stairs and out into the street, hoping that the cold air would whisk away the hot, stinging feeling welling up behind her eyes. The entire situation seemed like one sick joke: she and Azelma were too young, too coarse, and too insignificant for any respectable man to consider as a prospect, but what would it bode for them if somehow they were not deemed suitable?

Her steps soon led her to the Rue des Cornes, where she hoped to charm someone at the cookhouse into giving her a crust of bread or anything that could serve as breakfast. She succeeded in acquiring half a boiled egg and a small cup of water, but before she could steal away to a corner to enjoy this middling repast, she heard a low laugh from somewhere in the taproom. "Your bourgeois fiancé has forgotten to feed you, I see. Never mind your father's bragging last night."

Eponine rolled her eyes at Montparnasse. "I don't have a fiancé."

Montparnasse smiled mockingly at her. "Your old man has gone quite mad, or he needs spectacles. There's no way that Verdier will want you or Azelma as a bride. Just look at you."

The girl could feel her cheeks burning just from knowing that this remark was certainly overheard by others in the cookhouse. The memory of Montparnasse's words from two nights ago only made it more difficult to raise her head. "Maybe you ought to tell my father that. I'm sure he'd listen to you then," she said acridly.

Montparnasse winced, but whether this was for show or out of a genuine sense of hurt it was impossible to tell. "Have you ever met him?" he asked at length.

She shook her head. "I have no wish to."

"Keep your back straight then," the assassin warned. "It might help your chances a little."

"You're one to talk. I don't see a bourgeois girl on your arm," Eponine taunted.

He laughed softly before biting into a fresh crust of white bread. "Eponine, do you think I am only out for just that? What use is that sort of woman to me?"

"Why else do you dress well?" she asked.

Montparnasse merely sneered before stuffing the rest of the bread into his mouth. "You're such a romantic. Do you think that's a man's only reason for getting on in the world?" He laughed again with undisguised vitriol before pocketing his billy stick. "My best wishes to you both."

Eponine did not say anything as she watched his back seemingly disappear into the crowd in the cookhouse. ' _He wouldn't have gotten that elegant to begin with if he hadn't been making eyes at grisettes first,'_ she reminded herself. She could almost still see Montparnasse as he had been when they'd first met three years ago: he was an overgrown gamin who knew directions, while she'd just begun the business of delivering her father's letters. ' _He didn't even care if he was wearing breeches instead of trousers,'_ she recalled a little ruefully as she looked about the cookhouse. The air here wasn't thick and cloying yet with the heavy odor of too many meals cooked in too few hours, and so she found she could take a few deep breaths in order to clear her head. After making short work of her breakfast, she hurried as quickly as she could to the Rue Plumet.

This time it was Cosette who met her at the gate. She was pale and her eyes had shadows under them, as if she hadn't slept all night. "Maman left the altered dresses out for you. Victor is with Grandfather at the Austerlitz for lessons. Maman is out too," she said as she let her friend into the house's elegant drawing room. She raised an eyebrow when Eponine handed back the green dress. "It's yours. It suits you far better than it suits me. Azelma can keep her dress too."

"What's your mother going to say if she wonders where it's gotten off to?" Eponine asked.

"She knows," Cosette whispered. She looked around the room, as if worrying she'd be overheard. "Maman is furious. Not because we went out walking instead of going home straightaway, but of course she's not really happy we did that, but because I was talking to Marius!"

Eponine's jaw dropped. "What's so wrong with that?"

"She just doesn't approve," Cosette replied. "She says it's not suitable, and I don't know what she means. I am sure if she talked to him even a little longer she'd like him as much as I do."

The younger girl paused, wondering what to make of these obviously smitten words coming from her friend. "So what are you going to do, Cosette?"

"I need to reach him somehow. Victor and I can't leave this house, not without Grandfather or Maman," Cosette said. A blush spread over her cheeks as if she had been contemplating something a little indecent. "I have a letter for him, but all I need is an address."

"Didn't he ever tell you?"

"I couldn't ask when Maman was dragging me and Victor off by our ears!"

Eponine sighed at the recollection of yesterday's fiasco. There was only one avenue she could see to make sure that any communication could be fostered in light of this recent development. "So I should ask?" she offered.

Cosette smiled sheepishly. "Could you? Please? I'd do the same for you."

"I know," Eponine said. For a moment she felt the urge to unburden herself as well; perhaps Cosette could help her in her predicament, but one look at her friend's pallid and haggard visage made her hold back. ' _One thing at a time, one day then another,'_ she reminded herself. Sometimes thinking this was the only way she could keep from crying herself to sleep. "I'll do it since he seems nice enough and you like him," she finally said more pluckily.

"You would?" Cosette asked.

"Better him than some others," Eponine replied. "If he writes back, he can't very well send it here."

"Maybe Victor could...but that would be a little bit of a problem," Cosette said before shaking her head. "If Marius gave the letters to you, it might be easier."

"I'd have to find some reason or another to keep coming here," Eponine pointed out. "Maybe I'll come up with some better excuse soon enough."

"I don't know how to thank you enough for this, Eponine, but surely I will," Cosette said as she clasped Eponine's hands. "Someday when you do find someone-"

"If!" Eponine corrected.

Cosette rolled her eyes kindly. "Don't think that way, please. I know it hasn't been easy for you, and I'd do anything to help you, believe me."

' _That's why I worry,'_ Eponine thought even as she managed a nod. "Give me the letter then, Cosette."

"Wait here," Cosette said before racing upstairs. She returned in a few moments carrying the altered dresses. "You should wear that green dress you wanted to return. It's cold outside."

"I'm warm enough," Eponine lied as she took the bundle of garments. She could feel the crisp paper of Cosette's folded missive in between the dresses, but for safety's sake she slipped the note in her pocket. "Anything more you want me to say when I see him?"

"That he's wonderful, that I hope he'll write back soon and that I wish to see him somehow," Cosette said after a moment. "If you go now he may still be at the Luxembourg!"

Eponine nodded again before dashing out of the house and down the Rue Plumet. Before she reached the street corner she had to jump out of the way to avoid being run down by a fiacre. When she turned to get a look at the offending vehicle, she saw it come to a stop outside the house she had just left. She saw a tall gentleman alight from the carriage and reach in to help out someone. Eponine's jaw dropped when she saw the telltale flash of Fantine's tresses before the older woman hastily tucked the stray strands under her lace cap. ' _Who has she been visiting with?'_ she wondered as she watched the pair enter the house. Was Cosette even aware of this?

Before she could be seen, Eponine tucked the dresses under her arm before dashing off in the direction of the Luxembourg. It did not take her long to locate the walkway where Marius had been the day before, but much to her dismay this portion of the promenade was utterly deserted. She patiently sat on a bench to wait a few minutes as well as to bask a little in the sunshine. She closed her eyes to relish the feeling of heat spreading through her bones coupled with the breeze that cooled her face. Moments like this after all were becoming few and far in between nowadays. She stayed until she heard the distant tolling of church bells; it was now eleven in the morning.

It was still too dangerous to return to the Place Saint-Michel, and she was not sure if heading to the Rue Ferou and asking Musichetta about Marius would be the best idea. ' _Which leaves the Place du Pantheon then,'_ she thought. It was dangerous to be in this locale; not only was it open but it was a known meeting place of radical students. Eponine laughed at this very idea, for this was the very sort of thing that Victor would have suggested. ' _If he was with me this would be easier,'_ she realized as she emerged onto the Rue Saint-Dominique, which was not far from the Pantheon.

Even before she stepped into the square surrounding this grand edifice she could already hear the murmurs and shouts of the large group of students gathered near the Pantheon's entrance. She stood on tiptoe to get a better glimpse of a face, a mannerism, or just about anything that she could recognize in this crowd of tall hats and frock coats. She bit her lip as she caught sight of a young man clutching pamphlets while calmly explaining something to a group of dandies. ' _Either he's very bold or very mad,'_ she thought as she watched Enjolras climb onto the steps. Now and then she could not hear his voice thanks to the enthusiastic cheers from the crowd, but the intensity of his gaze and the force of his gestures were enough to bring the point across. There was none of the coldness he had shown her on the stairway or the reserve he had exhibited the previous day at the promenade. He was nothing less than fire that banished the winter's chill and perhaps even the lassitude that threatened to smother the city this winter.

She suddenly heard a step behind her followed by a cough. "This is a surprise, Eponine Thenardier," Bahorel greeted.

Eponine wheeled about to face him. Her jaw dropped when she saw that he had his arm in a sling. "What did those  _cognes_  do to you?"

"A fine form of wrestling," Bahorel replied jovially. "I heard you and the Fabres were at the Rue Ferou yesterday morning."

Eponine nodded. "Your friend Mademoiselle Laurain is a lovely sort."

"A brilliant one," Bahorel said approvingly. "She means well."

' _But does not know what else has happened,'_ Eponine thought. "Would you know where I can find Marius Pontmercy?"

Bahorel's eyebrows shot up. "You know him?"

"I have an errand for him," Eponine replied. This was as much as she could dare to reveal without betraying Cosette. "I need to know his address."

"I heard that he was living at the Rue Copeau but at this hour he might be with the publishers at the Place de la Sorbonne," Bahorel admitted. "You ought to ask his friend Courfeyrac to be more certain."

Eponine stood on tiptoe as the crowd let out one uproarious cheer at the end of Enjolras' speech. She sighed as she spotted Courfeyrac now in intense conversation with her neighbor and another young man with mousy brown hair and holding a couple of large tomes under his arm. ' _They won't be done for a little while longer,'_ she thought morosely before slinking away towards this neighbourhood, which fortunately was located only a few streets away.

When she arrived in the area of the university, she was just in time to see Marius emerging from a small shop. "Monsieur Pontmercy!' she shouted to him.

Marius nearly dropped the folios he was carrying. "Good afternoon Mademoiselle...Eponine, isn't it?" he managed to say after a moment as he clutched the papers to him with one arm.

Eponine swiftly brought the letter out of her pocket. "This is from my friend Cosette."

The young man's eyes lit up as he took the letter with his free hand. "I had worried I'd never be able to meet her again! How is she?"

"She is well, and wants you to write back soon, and to make your appearance when you can," Eponine said with a smile. "She thinks you're wonderful, M'sieur."

"And I think she's an angel," Marius said before reddening at this very demonstrative statement. "Where do I send the reply?"

Eponine took a deep breath. "She lives at the Rue Plumet. It's the only house on that street with any sort of life in it. You can't and shouldn't send a letter there though' you remember how her mama was."

Marius nodded shamefacedly. "I fear I might have caused her trouble. Would it be better if I gave  _you_  the letters to pass to her?"

"She decided on that very thing, Monsieur," Eponine said. She bit her lip as she tried to think up a place and time to facilitate this letter exchange. "I go to the church of Saint Jacques-du-haut-Pas. Sometimes Cosette visits there too. I can pass there every day, at eight in the morning."

Marius smiled as he pocketed the letter. "If it's not too much trouble? Oh I wish I could see her right away!" He sighed wistfully before looking at Eponine more pityingly. "Thank you, Mademoiselle Eponine...is that all you are known as? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Eponine shook her head even as she saw Marius begin to search his pockets for some coins. The young man was in such a state that it almost felt like robbery to take anything from him, even if it was freely given. Besides, what good would his assistance be apart from guaranteeing a meal or two? "M'sieur, I do not want your money."

"Surely there must be something..."

"Let me think about it while you write your letter."

Marius nodded understandingly. "I am in your debt, Mademoiselle Eponine. Till tomorrow then!"

"Yes, tomorrow, M'sieur," Eponine said before making a clumsy curtsy and hurrying off. For no apparent reason she doubled back towards the Place du Pantheon, arriving now to a relatively quiet square. Much of the crowd had dispersed and returned to other activities, and only a few lingered in quiet conversation or plotting. Eponine sat on the steps to catch her breath and rest her tired feet. She realized after a few moments that Enjolras was also seated on the same step with a pamphlet on his lap but with his astute gaze seemingly trained on the square. He looked her way after a second, now suddenly aware that he was being watched. Eponine thought of making a cheeky or at least a friendly greeting, but the words seemingly died in her throat. ' _How can I, when he already knows what I really am?'_ she realized. It was impossible even for him to be completely oblivious to the goings-on in the room next to his. Perhaps he had also overheard how she and her father had argued about the impending engagement. He did not need to see her in her ragged attire to draw a conclusion.

"I s'pose you think it's funny I am here," she said at length.

"There is no impediment to your listening in," he replied.

Eponine looked down, knowing that he had also seen her earlier in the crowd. "It's not for me though."

"When there is no need for a king and the people are properly represented, there will be less privation and indignity," the student said firmly.

Eponine laughed sardonically. "You can't stop people from grabbing what they can when things get bad or even when they get better," she muttered. ' _Like my father,'_ she would have said, but there was no need to enunciate this dire thought hanging in the air. She drew up her knees to her chest, not caring that she would wrinkle the dresses she was carrying. "I told you we're quiet folk. I'm sure you don't think so anymore."

"The walls are thin," Enjolras remarked. He paused, perhaps to watch the square again or mull over something before he turned to look at her again. "How long has your family been staying there?"

"Less than a month," Eponine replied, straightening up from her hunched position so she could breathe more easily as well as meet his eyes. She had expected this question to be condescending, but there was a hint of curiosity in his tone that encouraged her to converse with him for a little longer. "By any chance you wouldn't happen to know that Monsieur Verdier that my father mentioned?"

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I have not made his acquaintance."

She swallowed hard, knowing it did not bode as well if the name was familiar to Montparnasse but unknown to a man of Enjolras' station. It was at least clear from his gravity that he was quite disapproving of the situation, perhaps even somewhat repulsed. "That Verdier is probably not such a grand one then," she thought aloud. She laughed as she caught sight of her companion's perplexed expression. "Papa used to know some of those officers and nobles, like a colonel he saved at Waterloo. He's a Bonapartist as you can tell. So is my mother, and me and my sister, I s'pose."

Enjolras smirked at these words. "Then hopefully nothing which was said earlier at the gathering inadvertently offended you, Citizenness."

"You ought to be a little more careful who you say such things to, M'sieur. It doesn't always sound polite, and you know what the police could very well think of it," Eponine chided him. She fell silent when she saw his eyebrows shoot up. "I shan't tell anyone though," she said more reassuringly.

Enjolras nodded in tacit understanding even as the bells from the nearby church of Saint-Etienne tolled the hour. "I will not keep you from your other errands then," he said as he got to his feet. "Good day to you, Citizenness."

"My family and I will all be away for the evening," Eponine said as she also stood up. "If you want to get into the tenement without being noticed, that is the hour for it," she explained.

"Very well then. Thank you for the advice," he said as a brief smile tugged at the corners of his full lips. They parted silently in the square, and Enjolras immediately went towards a group of students, where he was enthusiastically greeted by a younger man whose face was obscured by an extremely floppy hat. Eponine looked about to make sure that no one was observing them before slipping away in the general direction of the Boulevard de l'Hospital.

As she wandered towards the neighbourhood of the Austerlitz, she found herself laughing out loud. It would be impossible for her to set him up for an ambuscade, now that she had practically promised to keep him away from the police's attention. ' _Maybe he's also keeping his mouth shut about us too,'_ the thought occurred to her. It wasn't the best of ideas but it was pleasant in its own bizarre way.

She happened to pass by a cottage that she knew to be Mabeuf's lodgings, and here she slowed her steps to get a better look. Mabeuf had company over; how he managed to fit M. Fabre and Victor in that small space was a mystery to Eponine, but it did not seem that anyone was complaining. ' _They are a fine family who visit the oddest people and never have a carriage of their own for it,'_ she observed. Years ago she would have simply dismissed this as mere peculiarity, but now even this trait seemed to take on a more suspicious aspect. She shook her head as she walked off; perhaps she would ask Cosette about this if she did not have to worry about letters, mothers, or unwanted husbands.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Eponine decided to return to the Gorbeau tenement. By now the rest of her family was awake and making some attempt at their respective toilettes. "Papa says we should splash on some of this," Azelma said as she ran up to her sister and shoved a large bottle in her hands.

Eponine nearly gagged at the reek of cheap eau de toilette. "Come on, put on your dress. Cosette said you can keep the one you borrowed," she said.

"I'll wear that one then, and you can wear the green," Azelma said.

"I think I'll stick with the puce one, it looks better for a dinner party," Eponine reasoned. The green dress was a day dress, and she did not want to be seen wearing a casual item even to an odious gathering. She managed a smile at her mother, who was making some attempt at curling her hair with some old tongs. "That looks very nice, Maman."

Mme. Thenardier sighed at her. "If you arrived here earlier, I'd have time to curl your hair too. I have to see to Azelma's first."

Eponine shrugged as she set down the garments, taking care to discreetly hide the green day dress. She shook out the puce dress to check its fit as well as admire Fantine's handiwork in taking it in. Despite the fact that the gown felt passably becoming on her, she still felt ridiculous and was thankful at that moment for the absence of a proper looking glass. She thought of voicing out the idea of wearing her rags to dinner, but one look at her father's dark countenance made her hold her tongue.

At six in the evening the four Thenardiers boarded a fiacre and headed for the Rue Saint Sebastian, just south of the Faubourg du Temple. "It's possible one of the ladies living in these parts may have given up these gowns," Eponine muttered to her sister, taking care not to be heard through their father's attempts to cheer up their mother.

Azelma frowned and wrinkled her nose. "Must be an awfully  _fat_  one then."

"Maybe. What else can live in these grand houses?" Eponine murmured. She felt her stomach lurch as the carriage came to a stop outside a house half-hidden by a high wall. She willed herself to keep her head low and remain impassive, for fear of being misconstrued as putting on a show of resistance to mask eagerness. She clenched her fist, willing for something like a knife perhaps to hold on to. The only thing there was Azelma's hand as they went into the house.

They went into the dim but tastefully decorated drawing room, where they were met by a tall man with brown hair that was shot through with silver strands. His waistcoat and coat were at the height of fashion, his cravat was tied daintily, but he wore breeches tucked into high boots. His face was long, giving him the impression of being horse-like. Nevertheless he bowed elegantly to his guests. "Good evening Monsieur Thenard. It is a pleasure to finally meet the rest of the family."

"They are more delighted to meet you, Monsieur Verdier," M. Thenardier said smoothly as he pushed his daughters forward. "My eldest daughter, Eponine, and her younger sister, Azelma."

"How charming," Verdier said before taking Eponine's hand to kiss it. It was all that Eponine could do not to shudder at the unwelcome warmth of his thin lips on her skin. Azelma blanched visibly at this sight, only to shiver noticeably when Verdier also kissed her hand. Eponine had to discreetly grab her sister's arm to steady her, more so when M. Thenardier laughed and made a remark about his daughters' show of modesty.

"You watch what you say during dinner," M. Thenardier warned her discreetly as they went into the dining room, with Mme. Thenardier on Verdier's arm. "He's a proper bourgeoisie."

Eponine bit her lip at this admonition, even as she recalled the young men she'd spoken to earlier that day. "He's not the only one," she hissed.

M. Thenardier sneered at her. "I have no use for dilettantes like that Montparnasse. Not for a Thenard."

"Thenardier," Eponine insisted. She always hated it whenever her father shortened their surname for 'respectability's sake'. Knowing this only intensified the taste of bile in her throat, which refused to go away even throughout their sumptuous dinner.

Towards the end of dinner, when Verdier called for a decanter of wine to be passed around, he eyed the two Thenardier girls keenly. "I am sure you two girls do not lack for suitors," he said amusedly. "Fortunately your parents are such good Christians and very careful that you will choose husbands wisely instead of leaning towards youthful folly."

"We try our best," Mme. Thenardier said stiffly.

M. Thenardier let out a loud belch. "So has either of them caught your eye, my friend?"

"They have been silent, so I know little of their characters," Verdier replied gamely.

"My elder daughter is clever from time to time. She helps me with my business," M. Thenardier said. "The younger is quieter, clever too but more keen to be with her mother."

"I see. That situation cannot last forever though," Verdier said.

"Certainly."

"And I'd hate to deprive you of your prop in your old age."

"You are too kind, Monsieur Verdier."

Verdier wiped his mouth before smiling at Azelma. "Mademoiselle, it must be you then. I would like nothing better than your hand in marriage."

Eponine had only a split second to catch her sister as she swayed and fell in a faint to the floor. 


	15. Chapter 15: The Agent

**Chapter 15: The Agent**

As soon as the Thenardiers were back in the Gorbeau tenement, the former innkeeper pulled his elder daughter aside in the corridor. "Are you happy now?" he seethed as he gave her a sharp shake. "You're not going to marry that bourgeois, but what is he going to do with that sister of yours?"

Eponine bit her lip as she glanced towards their cell, where she could hear her mother trying to comfort a disconsolate Azelma. "He wouldn't have said so if you hadn't given him the push to it."

M. Thenardier glared at her before pushing her away. "If you hadn't been such a hussy and dragged your feet about maybe he would have thought you were a nice, proper girl." He threw an irritated glance at the door. "No matter, now you must help prepare Azelma to be a proper wife. That means you ought to be respectable: no talk of the theater or even going about with that hooligan Montparnasse. I don't want any mistakes there, my girl."

Eponine simply nodded before pushing her way into the cell. Azelma had her face buried in Mme. Thenardier's lap and was sobbing regardless of the woman's petting her hair and rubbing her back. Mme. Thenardier let out an exhausted sigh as she met her eldest child's eyes. "I'm sorry, my treasure."

"Maman, isn't there any other way?" Eponine whispered as she sat on the floor. She gripped her sister's shaking shoulders and looked at their mother's tired, pasty face. "Must we?"

Mme. Thenardier merely continued patting Azelma's back. "Darling, you know how your father is."

' _Is that how it's always going to be?'_ Eponine wondered with dismay. She could still remember her mother from days gone by, that imposing and forceful woman who bustled about the inn. ' _You used to shout then, you used to make people keep quiet so they'd listen,'_ she thought. Inasmuch as her mother's coarse voice used to fill her with some fear, she would have given a great deal now to hear that same shrill pitch echoing throughout the garret.

Mme. Thenardier gently helped Azelma sit up. "You should go to bed now. I'll see if your father needs anything," she said before slowly getting to her feet and lumbering out of the room.

Eponine found a corner of the blanket to let Azelma wipe her face. "It'll come alright, Zelma."

Azelma shook her head. "How could you say that, Ponine?"

"I'll make sure of it," Eponine said defiantly. ' _Verdier can't be the only answer to this trouble,'_ she decided. She wasn't sure yet where to begin finding a way out, but she knew she would have to start soon. She let Azelma have the rest of the blanket as she padded back to their pallet, but instead of immediately joining her sister she sat by the hearth and threw some bits of paper into the hollow in hopes of making the best of a few embers there. She watched for a few minutes as the slightly damp scraps began to glow before she went over to the pallet and lay down to wait for sleep to overtake her.

When Eponine opened her eyes again, she immediately caught sight of sunlight seeping through holes in the garret. ' _The letter for Cosette!'_ she thought in a panic as she quickly got dressed, making sure this time to tie back her hair, wear the green day dress and even don her leaky shoes. All the while she listened with bated breath for the tolling of bells that would signal the hour, but hearing nothing, she tiptoed towards where Azelma still slept peacefully. ' _At least she didn't give herself a fever from crying all night,'_ she thought grimly.

Azelma stirred and yawned. "Ponine? Where are you going?"

"To give a message," Eponine whispered. "If Papa or Mama asks, say I've gone to Saint-Jacques to say my prayers and look for someone to send more notes to."

Azelma scowled at her. "You're lying again."

"Yes since I'm not stupid to be a truth-teller now," Eponine retorted before racing out the door and downstairs. She did not bother stopping by the cookhouse to look for anything to eat but instead ran as fast as she could to the church of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas. By the time she arrived in the churchyard she was quite out of breath and red in the face from cold and exertion, but it was just as well for the bells were tolling the hour as eight o'clock.

She had to tiptoe into the nave in an effort to deaden the squeaking from her shoes, but all the same she still had some churchgoers glaring in her general direction. At last she espied Marius standing at the door to one of the side chapels, looking around furtively as well. "Monsieur! Have you got it with you?" she whispered as she slipped over to him.

Marius started for a moment before realizing who was speaking to him. "I did," he said in a low voice as he brought a folded letter out of his coat. "I hope she doesn't think it's clumsy or that I'm a fool."

"She won't think that way. I s'pose she was nervous too when she wrote her letter," Eponine said as she pocketed the note. "Should I come here again at the same time tomorrow?"

"Will she write back so quickly?" Marius asked, almost unable to contain his excitement.

"I can wait most of the day," Eponine replied. "Anyway I'm sure that when I give her the letter she'll have something lovely to say, and then I'll have to tell you right away."

Marius nodded as he grinned from ear to ear. "I wish I could see her again. I do not feel I can sleep properly again till I can speak with her."

"Why don't you visit the Rue Plumet yourself then or arrange to meet her elsewhere?" Eponine asked. "She'd like that very much."

"She would but she said in her letter that her mother is on guard. Cosette can't even go out alone," Marius explained. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

Eponine sighed understandingly before making a courteous curtsy. "I s'pose I should give this letter straightaway. Good morning, Monsieur," she said before hurrying to the rear of the church. As she dashed down the steps she caught sight of a woman gingerly carrying a large basket as she alighted from a fiacre. ' _Why her, why now?'_ Eponine thought as she tried to step into the shadows, but even then she knew she was too late for the woman had already seen her.

"Eponine, come here!" Fantine called to her. "I'm sorry I wasn't around when you came by for the dresses yesterday. Do they fit well?"

' _Too well,'_ Eponine thought as she nodded. "Do I owe you anything for it?"

"As I said before, you don't owe anything," Fantine reassured her. She adjusted her grip on the basket. "I talked to Victor and he gave me your family's address. I'd like to call on your mother soon."

Eponine nearly recoiled at the idea of Fantine ever seeing the squalid Gorbeau hovel. "We don't have a proper room for calling," she said.

"Well then she can name a time and place she'd prefer," Fantine suggested kindly. "I know your mother has much to deal with, and I want to know if I can be of any help to her, in whatever way."

The girl looked down as an image of her mother's defeated face came to mind. She had no idea how her mother would react to Fantine's presence, but it was more likely better than letting her remain in the present situation. "I'll tell her when I return home."

"Thank you, Eponine," Fantine said. "And where are you off to?"

"Errands. I'll see you soon, Madame Fantine," Eponine said, reminded all too well of the weight of Marius' letter in her pocket. She dashed off to the entrance of the churchyard and glanced over her shoulder in time to see Fantine enter the building. As quietly as she could she made her way back and pressed herself into a shadowed nook, where she watched as Fantine handed over the basket of clothes to a tall lady standing by a larger pile of garments. The golden haired lady looked about for a moment before heading to one of the confessionals on the far side of the nave. ' _Not much use waiting for her to come out of there,'_ Eponine thought before quitting the church.

She ran as quickly as she could till she reached the neighbourhood of the Luxembourg, where she managed to sneak onto the back of a cart headed in the general direction of the Rue de Babylone. While she was here, she noticed a group of officers strolling down the street. ' _What uniforms!'_ she couldn't help thinking, at least till one particularly jovial looking lancer gave her an appreciative look that made her face feel warm. Nevertheless she willed herself to regain her composure before continuing on to the Rue Plumet.

Cosette was sitting out in the garden, seemingly watching the clouds. She jumped to her feet when she saw Eponine at the gate. "Ponine, what are you doing here?" she asked as she let her friend in.

Eponine smiled broadly as she brought the letter out of her pocket. "I saw him at the church of Saint Jacques," she announced. "He was delighted with your note."

Cosette let out a tiny little scream of joy before hugging Eponine enthusiastically. "I like him  _twice_ as much as I did yesterday!" she whispered as she opened the missive and pressed it to her chest. "Will he want me to write back right away?"

"Yes, but I s'pose he'd like to see you more," Eponine said.

Cosette nodded before reading the letter slowly, wiping away a happy tear when she was finished. "I will write back. I'm not losing a single moment," she decided. "Will you wait for it?"

"Have you got any other way?" Eponine quipped dryly as they went into the house and up to Cosette's room. "I saw your Maman a little while ago at the church."

"Yes, she went to bring clothes for the basket," Cosette said as she sat at her desk.

"And to go to confession," Eponine added. "Did she say where she'd go after?"

Cosette shrugged before dipping her pen in her inkwell. "She said she had to call on someone who had an important job for her," she said.

Eponine winced at how much this sounded like her father or Montparnasse talking. "She never said who it was?"

Cosette shook her head. "You know how Maman likes to keep to herself; she only ever talks to Grandfather and even then not about everything." She carefully wiped up a blot of ink that had strayed onto her desk. "Ponine, I wish I could tell her about him."

"Someday."

"And I'm sure that you and Zelma will also find wonderful men too. Are you sure no one fancies you already, Ponine?"

"Who would?" Eponine said tartly. She buried her face in her hands as she recalled what she would have to face once she returned to the Gorbeau hovel, and when she looked up she saw Cosette watching her concernedly. She sighed as she sat up straight and faced her friend. "I s'pose I should tell you. Azelma is getting married."

Cosette almost dropped her pen. "To who?"

"Monsieur Verdier. He's some old bourgeoisie my father met someplace. Says he's a trader, he has a big house and all he needs is a wife for it," Eponine said, feeling almost sick at this confession. "He's not an awful person, but that's not much to be thankful for."

"Azelma is still so young though," Cosette said with disbelief. "It's not the youngest I've  _ever_  heard of, but I can't imagine her married just yet."

Eponine shook her head. "I don't want it to happen. Not to my sister."

"What are you going to do?"

"You know I'd do anything, Cosette."

Cosette was silent for a little while as she signed her letter and then blotted it. "Long ago, Grandfather was a mayor or someone important in the government. He may know a thing or two to help," she said. "We can go down and talk to him; he's in his rooms at the back."

"Your mother is visiting mine, or wants to soon. They can talk about it, and that may work a little better at first," Eponine said.

"I hope so," Cosette said with a wan smile as she sealed the letter and handed it to Eponine. "It may work if they're not in a hurry."

Eponine heaved a sigh as she pocketed the note. "You mustn't tell anyone yet, not even Victor. I know you promised not to keep secrets, but please, for me?"

Cosette looked down for a moment. "If Maman is to help, shouldn't she know?"

"I'll tell her," Eponine said. ' _Hopefully I will have something better to mention then,'_ she thought before turning the conversation to more pleasant topics. After a quarter of an hour she took her leave of the Rue Plumet, in order not to allow Fantine to catch her there. However since she was still not eager to return directly to the hovel, she made her way instead towards the Sorbonne. ' _Why, I may catch that Monsieur Pontmercy there at work, and won't he be surprised to get a reply so early?'_ she thought.

Her path took her past the Place de l'Odeon, where apparently a scene was taking place right at the steps of the theater. Courfeyrac, as well as two other young men, was collapsed on the pavement. All of them sported wounds on their heads and shoulders. Two other gentlemen were hurriedly tending to them with the assistance of a few of the bystanders. One of these helpful faces was none other than Musichetta. Eponine cringed at the sight of blood on the pavement but before she could turn away, she caught sight of a skinny figure in the crowd. "Victor! What are you doing here?" she called, grabbing this boy's arm when he happened to pass by her.

Victor thumbed his nose. "Taking in the air."

"Does your mother know you're here?" Eponine snapped.

"She won't know if you don't squawk," Victor said. He shook his head as he looked back at the scene. "It was supposed to be a duel. Courfeyrac was supposed to be a second and not doing anything, but that bugger there got him too."

"Good thing your sister isn't around to hear you say that," Eponine chided. "What was the duel about?"

"A skirt," Victor quipped before hurrying off to where one of the men was calling to him. After a few moments he whistled to Eponine. "We need your feet!"

"Oh what for?" Eponine asked as she hurried over. She realized that the two men assisting the wounded were not entirely unknown to her; one of them was Musichetta's sweetheart or close friend, the other had been speaking to Enjolras and Courfeyrac the previous day at the Place du Pantheon. "Should I get more bandages?"

"Yes. Go with Musichetta; we'll meet up at the Rue de Conde," the second of these men said in an undertone.

"What is your name Monsieur?" Eponine asked.

This man smiled embarrassedly. "I'm Combeferre. You must be Mademoiselle Fabre?" he asked, gesturing to Victor.

"Not me. Mademoiselle Fabre is my friend though," Eponine said quickly. After all it wasn't the first time that a complete stranger had pointed out how she and Victor resembled each other. ' _I wonder if anyone really believes that he is Cosette's brother,'_ she thought as she nodded to Musichetta and followed her to the fringe of the crowd in the general direction of the Rue Ferou.

Musichetta was silent till they were almost opposite the cul de sac of this street. "You little fool," she sighed as she looked at Eponine. "I warned you."

"You don't call away Victor and he's younger than me or my sister," Eponine retorted.

"He came to them," Musichetta said as she brought a passkey out of her coat. "Of course the boys try to shoo him away but I don't think anything short of tying him to the Pont au Change will do the trick."

Eponine snorted at this. "Don't they tell you to go too?"

"Yes, but I can't go too far away. Someone always needs my help after," Musichetta said as they walked to a nearby house. "I'll go upstairs and get what we need. Wait here," she instructed before heading into the building.

The younger girl sighed deeply as she leaned against the wall. ' _Monsieur Pontmercy and Cosette will have to wait a little longer,'_ she decided. Even if Marius could compose a reply quickly for Cosette, it would be impossible to carry the missive to the Rue Plumet without being discovered. ' _May as well make the best of daylight,'_ Eponine thought.

Musichetta soon returned carrying a large wrapped bundle and some bottles. "Hold this," she said, motioning for Eponine to take the bundle, which turned out to consist entirely of bandages. "If you're to come with me, you must remember that you can't breathe a word of this to anyone. Not even to your sister or to Cosette Fabre."

"I can keep a secret," Eponine replied firmly as they began walking. "So what's the name of the fellow you live with?"

"You can call him Joly," Musichetta said. "The other boys will draw his name out so that there are four L's to it, but you don't have to. You might also hear of Bossuet—yes, same sobriquet as the philosopher. He's off at Meaux today but you ought to meet him some time."

"Monsieur Joly and Monsieur Combeferre are doctors?" Eponine clarified.

"Almost," Musichetta said as they arrived back at the main road. "You'll find more law students in that group of theirs though."

"Such as Monsieur Courfeyrac and Monsieur Enjolras?"

"You know them too?"

"They're Victor's friends," Eponine said with a shrug. It was at least part of the truth.

Musichetta nodded understandingly. "They'll be your friends too if you don't watch yourself. Courfeyrac in particular is quite the charmer if you know what I mean."

"What about Monsieur Enjolras?" Eponine asked.

Musichetta snorted. "Don't bother. I've never seen him prefer anyone whether man, woman, or some other species."

' _Who says I'm curious about that?'_ Eponine thought indignantly as they picked up the pace to hurry down the Rue de Conde. They entered a large house and headed up to the second storey to a large apartment. Musichetta knocked five times; thrice softly and twice more loudly before the door finally opened to reveal a slight young man who'd apparently thrown on a bulky light blue coat over a dark blue waistcoat and a pair of faded pantaloons.

"Musichetta, thank heavens," this young man greeted as he let the two girls into the apartment. "Joly was starting to wonder where you were..."

"Jehan, please remind him that unlike some people, I don't have four wings to my name," Musichetta said. She nodded to Eponine. "By the way this is Eponine Thenardier. Eponine, meet Jean Prouvaire."

' _Same as that boy from Notre Dame de Paris,'_ Eponine couldn't help thinking, but she had the feeling that this particular Jehan was a more agreeable character than his literary counterpart. "Is Victor Fabre here too?" she asked.

"Combeferre sent him out to look for Enjolras," Prouvaire said. He glanced at the open door leading to the next room. "They said it was about a woman?"

"Apparently," Eponine said with a shrug as she went to this open door to give the bandages to the medical students. She felt her gut twist at the sight of Courfeyrac lying on a bed, already stripped of his shirt to allow Combeferre and Joly to stitch up the deep gash that ran from below his collarbone to over his ribs. Musichetta was folding up some of the bandages and sorting out the bottles she'd brought.

At that moment a single loud knock sounded on the apartment door. Eponine turned in time to see Prouvaire let in Enjolras and Victor. Both newcomers looked as if they had run a long way. "We came from the Sorbonne," Victor said breathlessly.

Eponine quickly stepped away from the door to allow Enjolras into the sickroom. The young man's eyes widened with surprise on seeing her, but he nodded by way of cordial acknowledgment before going to where Combeferre and Joly were still tending to Courfeyrac. Seeing that Musichetta was still busy nearby, Eponine went to where Prouvaire and Victor were looking through a cupboard. "I think I should tell Monsieur Pontmercy. I think he'd want to know," she said to them.

"We ran into him on the way here. He's stopping by an apothecary first, so we'll have him here in a minute or so," Victor said.

' _That saves me some trouble,'_ Eponine thought, feeling once again the letter in her pocket. She heard footsteps again from the sickroom and she turned to see Enjolras there. "How is he?"

"He'll live," Enjolras said with a slight smile. "How did you come to be here, Citizenness?"

"I was passing through when Monsieur Combeferre asked for my help and told me to go with Musichetta," Eponine explained as she went to him. She bit her lip, wondering if he had overheard any of the recent arguments concerning her sister. "I left early for my errands today," she said at length.

"I heard before I left too," Enjolras said as he caught her gaze. "I take that dinner was eventful."

She snorted at this query. "What a way of putting it."

"It is the most circumspect description," he pointed out.

"Did my mother ever tell my father what she really thinks of it?"

"She did not say anything to that effect."

"I wish she would. Maybe Papa would think it all over again and decide that Azelma doesn't have to get married to that man," Eponine muttered bitterly. ' _Then he'll come up with some other scheme or put Azelma with another man, or he'll decide that I have to marry...'_ she realized. She pressed her back against the wall in a poor attempt to disguise the shudder that coursed through her being, but all the same she saw Enjolras watching her concernedly. "Never mind me, Monsieur. It was just a thought."

"I see," Enjolras said. His tone was serious when he spoke again. "If Citizen Verdier is made aware of the objections to this situation, the reconsideration might come from him."

"If only he was the sort of gentleman who'd ask about things, like you," Eponine mused aloud. Her eyes widened when she saw the quizzical look that spread over Enjolras' face at this remark. She could feel her cheeks growing warm as she averted her gaze. ' _A gentleman who'd ask about, now there's an idea...'_ she thought as she looked around the room and the people there, feeling that first rush of clarity from a plan taking shape in her mind.


	16. Chapter 16: On Sunderings and Meetings

**Chapter 16: On Sundering and Meetings**

From that day on it became Eponine's singular business to case Monsieur Verdier in order to find any impediment to his upcoming marriage to Azelma. It was a business easier said than done, requiring much more than Eponine's own powers of observation. "Your old man will skin you for this," Montparnasse warned when Eponine met him one morning at the cookhouse to inquire more about this bourgeois. "It won't be Verdier he'll rage at, but you girls."

"Not if Papa learns that the Monsieur is so awful so he has to call off Azelma's engagement," Eponine pointed out. "I'm sure he has some secret, something that is so nasty that would make even my Papa think twice for respectability's sake."

Montparnasse burst out laughing. "Oh Eponine, this isn't some opera or romance. Do you think that sort of plan will work?"

"Everyone has something to hide, Montparnasse. Even the most respectable sorts have things they don't want to talk about," Eponine pointed out.

Montparnasse chuckled before his expression darkened as he looked towards the outside of the cookhouse. "That milksop had better watch where he steps next," he muttered.

Eponine discreetly glanced to the side, only to see Enjolras passing by while in discussion with a wiry man dressed in a paint-covered smock. "Where have you seen him before?" she asked, trying to keep her tone level.

"I know he's your neighbor," Montparnasse said in a low voice. "I heard that he fancies himself as some sort of revolutionary. So what is the story with him?"

"A biscuit." Eponine retorted. For all she knew, Enjolras had brought almost nothing to the Gorbeau hovel owing to the haste and secrecy his arrival there required.

The assassin shook his head. "More of you simply do not want to take a look at what he's got."

"There's more trouble to be had with picking that sort," she said. "They do know fisticuffs too, and knife work. I've seen it."

"Are you saying I cannot take him on?" Montparnasse growled.

"I'm only trying to keep you out of trouble since you're a good boy," Eponine said sweetly. "So about Monsieur Verdier..."

"Why should I tell  _you_?" Montparnasse sneered. "Your father isn't the only one who'd enjoy Verdier's money. Isn't that what you want, Mademoiselle Thenardier? Soon enough you'll be on the arm of a bourgeois brat yourself."

"If you won't do it for me, do it for Azelma," Eponine said, unable to hide the pleading tone in her voice.

Montparnasse smirked. "Always playing the big sister, aren't you?"

"Please. You don't like Verdier, and I don't think you want my sister to end up in his hands."

"As I told you before, he's a stern man who doesn't like it when matters don't go his way. He likes to gamble, likes to drink...no different from your other bourgeoisie fools. I don't think he has a mistress or any sort of thing that would interest you."

"Is he in debt? That would interest my father," Eponine said.

"Perhaps, but how will you find that out?" Montparnasse replied. He looked to a man sitting in a corner and nodded to him. "I have other important appointments. Good morning, Mademoiselle Thenardier," he said before getting to his feet and making a slight, mocking bow.

"Montparnasse-"Eponine protested. She bit her lip on seeing that the man who'd summoned Montparnasse was none other than another familiar face, Brujon. She gritted her teeth as she watched them converse, clapping each other's back before heading out of the cookhouse. ' _To other business, no doubt,'_ she thought before cramming a piece of bread in her mouth. She dusted the crumbs off her skirt and took a few deep breaths as she heard the distant tolling of bells signalling that it was seven in the morning. Once again, she was visiting the Fabres, but this time there was no letter for Cosette. ' _Why would there be, when there's better news afoot?'_ she thought more cheerily as she began her long trek towards the Rue Plumet.

Today, Azelma and their mother would also be visiting the Fabres for two reasons: the first was by Fantine's request, while the second was because M. Thenardier had finally decreed that his family ought to be clothed to fit their future station. ' _Hopefully Maman doesn't ask what errands had me leaving before they did,'_ she thought as she came into sight of the Fabres' house. She saw Cosette in the garden again, sitting under a tree as if she was daydreaming. This time Eponine didn't bother knocking at the gate but instead she located a loose bar there and shifted it just enough to let herself into the yard.

Cosette grinned approvingly at this sight. "So it works. I was worried I'd have trouble there"

"As long as he is quick about it," Eponine said as she went to sit by her friend. "I told him to come here past ten to be safe."

"Won't he get lost? It's late."

"I'll bring him here. Don't worry about it, Cosette."

Cosette looked at her concernedly. "What about you? It's a long way back to where you live."

"Don't mind me," Eponine said. "You've gone too long without seeing him, and he misses you."

Cosette sighed with relief. "If only there was some way I could thank you enough. Just tell me so, Ponine, and I'll do it."

"You can help me find a way to stop my sister's marriage," Eponine replied.

"That's what my Maman can help you with by talking to your mother. Anyway that's for Azelma, but what about just for you?" Cosette asked.

Eponine simply shrugged even as she noticed sounds from inside the house. ' _That's Madame Fantine and Monsieur Fabre,'_ she thought as she got to her feet and motioned for Cosette to do likewise. The two girls entered the house in time to find Fantine and M. Fabre sitting down to breakfast. "Good morning," she greeted cheerily.

M. Fabre nodded to her graciously while Fantine nearly dropped a plate in shock. "Goodness! You're early, Eponine," Fantine greeted.

"I need to tell you something before my mother gets here," Eponine said. She bit her lip as she saw M. Fabre and Fantine looking at her concernedly. "My father is arranging a marriage for Azelma. Maman doesn't approve of it, I think, but she won't say anything to it."

M. Fabre sighed and shook his head while Fantine seemed to be in a state of shock. "Who is the gentleman?" she asked.

"Monsieur Verdier," Eponine said. The increasingly confused looks the Fabres were giving her only heightened the unease in her gut. ' _Is Verdier really a bourgeois then if others haven't heard of him?'_  she wondered silently.

"Has a date been set yet?" M. Fabre inquired gently.

"Not yet, but last night they were talking about having it before Shrove Tuesday," Eponine said. This last fact was sickening, for it meant she barely had two months at most to set any plan in action. "Madame Fantine, can you please talk to my Maman about it?" she begged.

Fantine's expression was stricken at this plea. "Eponine, this should be between her and your father."

"That's the problem, my father rules everything and leaves no one space to do anything," Eponine said. "But if my Maman said something, maybe it could be different," she added when she saw Fantine look at her more pensively.

"Are you sure she disapproves?" Fantine asked after a few moments.

"She has never said anything happy about it," Eponine reasoned. "Please, Madame Fantine?"

Fantine looked down, clearly deep in thought. "I'll bring it up to her later," she said after a few moments. She turned towards a rapping sound from outside. "That must be her and Azelma now. Could you please fetch them, Cosette?"

Eponine took a seat in the furthest corner of the room, if only to make it less obvious that she'd been conspiring with Fantine. She had to bite her lip and look down at the sight of her mother lumbering into the front room, her face half-hidden by the hideously oversized plumes of her hat. ' _Oh Maman...'_  Eponine couldn't help thinking as she took in her mother's reddened face, her mismatched dark blue blouse and purple skirt paired with rough teamster's boots, and the hair that escaped in ghastly strands from under the bonnet. Azelma had taken some more steps towards elegance by putting on the puce dress that Eponine had so detested, but this impression was somewhat lost thanks to her still frightened and wan eyes.

Fantine smiled warmly at the newcomers. "It's good to see you two, "she said as she went to them. She clasped Mme. Thenardier's arms. "It's been some time, Lisette."

Mme. Thenardier seemed to flinch on hearing her given name and she took a slight step back. "I have been busy."

It was all that Eponine could do not to sigh with disagreement at this lie. She noticed M. Fabre excusing himself at the same time Cosette motioned towards the stairway. "Zelma, we should let Madame Fantine measure Maman's dress first," she said loudly to her sister.

"Why?" Azelma asked only for her eyes to widen when she caught sight of Cosette. "I can wait for a little bit, Maman. I'm still tired from walking," she said more brightly to Mme. Thenardier.

Mme. Thenardier nodded wearily. "Whatever you say my treasure."

The three girls quickly headed upstairs to Cosette's room, making sure to shut the door behind them. "I do hope they'll actually talk!" Eponine hissed as they sat on Cosette's bed.

Cosette quickly kicked off her shoes so that she was in stocking feet. "We can find out," she said in a whisper. She went over to her writing desk in a corner and carefully pushed it aside. "The floor is especially thin here, that's why I made sure no one would walk on it," she murmured as she crouched on the floor. Azelma did the same, managing to take the space next to Cosette. Eponine inched her way into the cramped space opposite them and pressed her ear to a crack she noticed in the planks. It took her a little while to become accustomed to the muffled quality of the voices downstairs, but she found that she could actually still distinguish some of the conversation.

"No one ever said that marriage would be easy especially between two people who are so vastly different. Does Azelma at least like him?" Fantine's voice prattled.

"How can she? He's so old and he does not look at her as more than a doll!" Mme. Thenardier said with a tone of wearied disgust.

"And your husband knows this?"

"He believes that Azelma will get over it. As she should."

Fantine clucked her tongue. "Don't you want other suitors for your girls? They are still young after all."

"If I could get a fine viscount or two to look their way, I shouldn't worry!" Mme. Thenardier huffed.

"Must it be a viscount?" Fantine asked lightly.

"I had hoped that my girls would grow to play some wonderful part," Mme. Thenardier said. "They are pretty enough and not half bad in the head. Of course they won't since we are not one of those noble families but it would be so much better if those gentlemen knew we were actual innkeepers once."

Eponine couldn't help but roll her eyes at this.  _'They won't know any of the truth if Papa keeps passing us off as all sorts of things,'_ she thought even as she met Cosette's increasingly discomfited look and Azelma's shocked expression.

Downstairs the conversation still continued. "Every year it only gets worse and worse, and bread gets harder to come by. My husband is only doing his best to provide for us," Mme. Thenardier said.

"Isn't there another way?" Fantine asked worriedly.

"What other way could there be for me and the girls? I will not send them away to seek their fortunes elsewhere," Mme. Thenardier replied thickly. "If you had a husband, you'd understand."

On hearing this Cosette sighed with dismay, while Azelma rested her head on the floor and Eponine could only close her eyes. ' _Is that all Maman is ever going to say to it?'_ the older Thenardier girl wondered silently as she sat up. All the same, it was true that her mother would not or could not say anything more, for fear of M. Thenardier's ire. "I shouldn't like to marry then," she whispered.

"Ponine, you're going to have to. Papa will make sure of it," Azelma said.

"I won't agree to it, and you won't have to marry that Verdier either. You'll get to marry someone better than you, who'll treat you well," Eponine retorted furiously.

"What are you going to do?" Cosette asked.

"Something," Eponine said. It was impossible to keep her plans secret forever, but she was at least determined that Azelma and Cosette would be spared from any inadvertent ramifications of her inquiries. She looked down as she heard Fantine knocking on the door to ask Azelma to come down to have herself measured for her dresses. ' _Not this way. Just not this way,'_ she thought as she got to her feet before the door opened.

"I was worried what you three girls would get up to here," Fantine said when Cosette opened the door. "Are you sure you don't want anything for yourself, Eponine?"

"Not today. I have errands to do for my father," Eponine said. She had the perfect alibi after all; she'd dropped off a letter at the door of a 'man of letters' in the area of the Rue des Macons, not far from the Sorbonne. ' _If Papa asks what I was doing there, I can say I was looking for a reply,'_ she decided as she politely excused herself. When she went downstairs she saw her mother seated in a large armchair, looking into the roaring fire a few feet away. For the first time ever, Eponine could not bring herself to even say a word of greeting to her mother. Instead she only bit her lip and hurried out the door as quickly as she could before Mme. Thenardier could speak to her.

She took a meandering path through the Latin Quartier, even going through the Rue des Macons and the nearby Place du Sorbonne before heading towards the neighbourhood of the Rue Racine, where she knew that Courfeyrac was still convalescing in his apartment. Even from outside the young man's rooms she could hear his merry voice keeping up conversation with Bahorel's more booming one. She knocked twice only to burst out laughing when Bahorel opened the door. "I s'pose you were expecting someone else?" she greeted her dumbstruck friend.

"Yes, but you make a fairer guest," Courfeyrac called from where he was sitting up in bed.

Bahorel threw his friend a reproving look over his shoulder. "How may we help you, Eponine?" he asked her more kindly.

"I'll explain a little if you let me in," Eponine said. As soon as she was in the apartment she shut the door. "You two know fine folk. I need help in finding out about one of them," she explained as she sat on a chaise. "You should know before you read of it in the papers; my sister is marrying a gentleman named Verdier. He's some sort of trader, maybe you do know him."

Courfeyrac sat up, clearly interested. "The name is familiar. What does he trade?"

"He said dry goods," Eponine replied. ' _Something that could mean anything,'_ she realized with some distaste. "Have you met?"

Courfeyrac paused to think. "Once. He's not very old, isn't he? Long face, brown hair. He lives someplace in the Marais and he loves to wear breeches despite them being out of fashion."

"Yes, that very man!" Eponine said, clapping her hands. "Who does he like to go about with?"

"His business associates, but I have not noticed anyone in particular."

"Oh, so he doesn't have a mistress or lady friend?"

"No one he seems to frequent," Courfeyrac said. "Your sister won't need to fear about that."

"I think she'd prefer that he would have some excuse to leave her alone often," Eponine quipped.

Bahorel burst out laughing. "There are a myriad of ways to get out of an undesirable marriage. A list of vices is not a good enough reason."

"What about his political opinions?" Eponine asked.

"He's like many bourgeoisies-meaning he takes whatever color suits him. I heard from Enjolras that your family is Bonapartist. You should talk to my friend Marius Pontmercy about it. He's a Bonapartist democrat," Courfeyrac said jovially.

Eponine shrugged at this seeming contradiction. "If his business is doing well, then he mustn't be in debt or some sort of trouble."

"That isn't necessarily the case," Bahorel pointed out. "I'm not a businessman, I've just known enough people who've overstretched their purses," he said before Courfeyrac could make a quip about this.

' _Which brings me back to Montparnasse's question from this morning,'_ Eponine thought glumly. In her reverie she almost did not notice that more people had already entered the room. She smiled weakly on recognizing Enjolras and Combeferre. "I should go," she mumbled.

"No one is asking you to leave, Mademoiselle," Combeferre said gently. "What brings you here?"

"Asking about a certain gentleman," Eponine replied.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at this. "Is this for your father's business?"

"You know I wouldn't be inquiring this way for him," Eponine said. She knew that Enjolras would understand this perfectly, but she hoped that this was vague enough so as the others would not inquire any further. All the same she knew it was best for her to make an exit before anyone could think of any questions. "Never mind me, boys, I can see myself out," she said as she stood up and began making her way to the door.

"There, you've scared her, Enjolras," Courfeyrac chided his friend. "It's a terrible habit of yours!"

It was all that Eponine could do not to laugh when she saw the exasperated look that crossed Enjolras' face. "I'm not the sort of girl one can frighten and just tell 'shoo!' to," she said as she eyed each of the young men and then made a low bow. "Good day to all of you," she added before making her way out the door.

Before she could reach the corner of the Rue Racine, she heard footsteps behind her and turned around to see Enjolras walking briskly in her direction. "Why are you leaving them so soon?" she asked him by way of greeting.

"A certain matter has come to my attention," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I should let you know that you're being watched," she said. She paused to see how he would take this news, and to her surprise Enjolras seemed impassive, even unsurprised. "I s'pose you've never heard of Patron-Minette?"

One of Enjolras' eyebrows shot up. "What about them?"

"They're watching you. You know what that can lead up to," she said. She bit her lip as she tried to figure out how to best phrase her next suggestion. "You should find someplace else to go."

"I am not afraid of their threats," he replied stiffly.

"You wouldn't stay that if you saw what they do," she said. ' _And you don't have to hear what my family argues about either,'_ she thought but she bit her lip harder to keep from voicing this out. "You have to go before they think of doing something to you."

"How do you know of this?" he asked.

"I talk to people too," she said. She shuddered at the mental image of Montparnasse facing off against Enjolras; such a thing could only end in death. ' _I don't want to see either of them come to such a pass,'_ she couldn't help thinking. "You know what sort of...person I am and what company I keep. I know things, Monsieur."

He smiled at her a little crookedly. "I do not doubt the veracity of the information, Citizenness."

' _Then why is he looking at me so strangely?'_ Eponine wondered silently as they continued walking in the general direction of the Place Saint-Michel. "I'm sorry if I interrupted something by my being there," she said at last when they reached the square.

"You weren't in the way," Enjolras said. "I heard that your father introduced your family to Citizen Verdier as the Thenards," he added after a moment.

"He likes to do that since he believes it sounds proper."

"That can already introduce a question into the validity of the marriage documents."

"Would anyone be able to find out?" she asked.

"If the right persons make the correct inquiries," he replied.

' _Such as one of Verdier's enemies maybe, if he has any,'_ Eponine thought as she rubbed her hands together for warmth. This bit of information suddenly made parts of her plan a little superfluous; at the rate matters were proceeding it was only a matter of time till either her father or Verdier would make a crucial misstep. "I don't s'pose you'd ever have this problem, having your parents make you do these sorts of things," she said in an undertone.

Enjolras' eyes narrowed for a moment. "To be more to the point we have some conflicting opinions."

"Oh, on politics?"

"No, on other matters."

' _If his parents are saying that he ought to marry someone, he looks like the sort who'd say no to it and they'd heed him,'_ she thought. That was something she knew that Azelma was powerless to do. "Do they know what you do here when you're not in your classes?" she asked.

"Yes. I would rather they hear it from me than through other sources," he replied.

"Are they also for a republic, like you and your friends are?"

Enjolras looked at her keenly. "You are very curious, Citizenness Thenardier."

"I do want to know since I told you what we are at home. It's only fair, I s'pose," Eponine reasoned.

"All I will say is that they may respect a man but have less for a throne," Enjolras said.

Eponine's brow furrowed at this seemingly contradictory idea but before she could ask Enjolras more about it she saw him make a sign to a balding man standing a little away from the Cafe Musain. "I am expected elsewhere. Thank you for walking with me this far, M'sieur," she said to him with a smile. .

"Where are you going?" Enjolras asked.

"Nowhere in particular," Eponine said with a shrug. She had several hours yet before her next errand, and besides she intended to spend some of that time mulling over what she had just learned from the young men. "You'd better be careful, Monsieur Enjolras. I don't want to see you in a bad way back at the tenement."

Enjolras nodded cordially. "Stay away from trouble. Good day, Citizenness Thenardier."

Eponine watched him go off with the balding man down the general direction of the Rue de Gres before turning on her heel and wandering towards the Luxembourg. Although it was a chilly day the fresh air helped clear her mind, giving her more impetus to linger at the promenade. ' _I can't go home just yet, not without an idea,'_ she thought. Besides, how could she face her mother after what she heard?

She stayed out long after it was dark and the first members of the night watch began roaming the streets of Paris. It was only as the church bells tolled nine in the evening that she quit the Luxembourg and made her way to the area of the Abbaye Aux Bois. She waved to a figure she saw standing at the abbey's gate. "Monsieur Pontmercy!"

Marius walked quickly to her. He was dressed all in black, as if he was afraid of being recognized at this hour. "I was worried you'd never get here, Eponine. Is it far from here?" he asked breathlessly.

"Only a bit of a walk. You must be very quiet; Cosette made a way for you to get into the yard but it's still best to keep one's mouth shut," Eponine instructed. "It would be so much easier if you could just visit her in the daytime."

"I'll get to that someday," Marius promised. "Is her mother still angry?"

"She hasn't said a thing," Eponine said as she grabbed Marius' arm to lead him through the shadows. In short order they reached the Rue Plumet, and as they approached the gate of the house she signed for the young man to stay silent and observe her. She went to the gate and moved the bar there as silently as she could. "Put it back carefully before you go," she said.

"Are you sure?" Marius asked.

"She is," Cosette chimed in from behind the gate. She was dressed warmly, complete with a cape that was the color of the shadows. She giggled when she saw Marius nearly jump at the sound of her voice. "It's been some time, Marius."

"It's been too long, Cosette," Marius replied in awe as he looked at her.

Eponine pushed him forward towards the gate. "Now get in, you silly," she said. "You'd best stay quiet, Cosette," she warned her friend.

"We'll be out at the back Maman, Victor, and Grandfather won't hear us, "Cosette said. "Eponine, I'm sorry about today. I wish it could have turned out better."

"We tried," Eponine said with a shrug. "Now go on, I can't stand out here all evening. Good night you two!" she whispered before turning around to go home. She could hear Marius and Cosette whispering and giggling at the gate; it was clear that they would never take more than a few steps without some further pleasantries and flirtation. She bit her lip as she thought back on the sullen faces that would greet her at home and the empty room next to her family's own. ' _At least some people in the world still laugh!'_ she told herself as she continued to walk deeper into the night.


	17. Chapter 17: A Labyrinth of Rock and Words

**Chapter 17: A Labyrinth of Rock and Words**

From that point on, Eponine's attempts at casing were not limited only to Verdier, but now included her own father and his attempts at passing off his name under many guises. ' _How does he ever keep his stories from tangling in each other?'_ she wondered early one morning as she crept away from her pallet towards where M. Thenardier had left some letters to dry at the family's one rickety table. She poked about in a dark corner where she'd hidden a stub of a candle that she'd taken from the concierge, and used the dying embers in the hearth to light the wick. By this flickering light she surveyed the unfolded missives her father had prepared for her to deliver during the day, all the while taking note of the names, places, and situations of the intended recipients. The array of names and places was dizzying; not only was M. Thenardier passing himself off as two Frenchmen named Jondrette and Fabantou, he was also going by the name of the mother Balizard, as well as an Italian called Andrea, and even a Spaniard named Gonzaga. However all the unwitting benefactors of this Proteus lived in different quartiers; it would take all of the morning and a good part of the afternoon for Eponine to drop off these missives and several others.

Suddenly she heard a rustling from her pallet. "Ponine, where did you get that light?" Azelma asked.

"Someplace," Eponine said, quickly pinching out the candle.

Azelma scowled before her sleepy gaze drifted from her sister to the letters on the table. "Why are you snooping into Papa's letters?"

"I need to find out something"

"Papa will be furious if he finds you're doing that."

Eponine shrugged as she returned to the pallet. "One of those people might be kind. One of them may be able to help us-and no, I don't mean about giving us any money, Zelma."

"Why didn't you just tell Papa about our neighbor before he moved out?" Azelma groused. "That might have helped a little."

"Because he was Patron-Minette's picking, and we don't have to get mixed up with  _that_  business if we're being respectable," Eponine replied. She had no idea as to the exact reactions of the men of Patron-Minette when they'd tried to break into Enjolras' room only to find that he'd vacated the house; the attempt had occurred while she'd been walking home from the Rue Plumet. However judging from her father's foul mood and her mother's frightened manner, the tale probably was a sordid one. ' _For as long as Montparnasse keeps quiet, I should be safe,'_ Eponine realized. Yet how long would that last?

Azelma nodded slowly. "But you know that people will just come asking  _us_  for money when I..."

"You're not getting married, believe me," Eponine said firmly. For a moment she wondered if her sister was giving up, but the flicker of fear in Azelma's eyes told her otherwise. "It's a complicated thing about papers and something legal, but it would mean people will be asking about you or that man, and you won't be allowed to marry after all."

"How will you do that?"

"Asking before anyone else does."

Azelma scratched her head confusedly. "Do you think our neighbor, I mean the one who used to live there, might go to the police?"

Eponine shook her head. "If he did, then Patron-Minette would have been captured by now." She was sure that Enjolras knew far more than he let on about the goings-on in the house and the neighbourhood, enough to put together at least some circumstantial evidence. ' _I would have thought he'd tell, but maybe he also sees it wouldn't do much good for anyone,'_ she thought. At that moment she heard a sleepy yawn from her parents' pallet, prompting her to scoot back to her own bed in an attempt to feign sleep. She had just enough time to pull her ragged blanket before M. Thenardier's bitter complaining filled the morning air.

In short order the former innkeeper ambled to his daughters' pallet and nudged Eponine's shin. "Wake up girl. You need to make yourself useful," he snapped.

Eponine slowly stretched and blinked, hoping she did appear drowsy. "What am I to do today, Papa?"

"Give these letters again. You must come back with something," M. Thenardier growled as he shoved a pile of newly folded and sealed letters in Eponine's face. "We have to get some fine things for your sister today, and we must cover expenses!"

Eponine rubbed her eyes before wiping her face with the blanket. "It's not my doing if those swells are so stingy."

"Well that doesn't matter! Cry, scream, beg, put on a smile, something to get them to give money! You must be able to talk them into giving assistance," M. Thenardier ordered. "Otherwise I shall have to marry you off, and then what are your mother and I to do for ourselves?"

Eponine looked down, unsure what to make of these words. "I'll try, Papa." She could not bring herself to look at her mother's sleeping form even as she went about her much abbreviated toilet. ' _What will make her finally say something?'_ she wondered. For a moment she entertained the picture of her mother trying to stop the proceedings, perhaps on the wedding day itself by snatching Azelma away from the ceremony, but she shook her head at this ludicrous image.

Within a quarter of an hour Eponine was out of the house and walking down the boulevard to begin dropping off the notes. She happened to pass by Mabeuf's dwelling, which was not far from the roadside. Here she caught sight of the gentleman talking with young Victor Fabre, most likely over some matter of horticulture owing to the fact that they were holding their discussion in the garden. She managed a friendly wave and a smile for this pair as she walked past them on her way to the Pont d'Austerlitz. Once she reached the riverside, she took some of the letters and tore them up; these were the ones she saw were being sent to some addresses she'd already visited or where she feared the reception would be unfavourable. She made sure to keep a few of the notes if only to actually earn some money, even if it was just enough for a few more meals.

Her path took her all around Paris, and by noon she had managed to collect around forty francs from various addresses. She made sure to save one address for the last: the Rue Clocheperce. Not only was this address likely to yield for her another errand, but she was never sure what to say to the occupants of the house there. ' _I'm only collecting a due. That's all,'_ she told herself over and over as she made her way down this street towards one of the more finely appointed dwellings there.

She took a deep breath and knocked twice on the front door before it opened. "Good afternoon! I'm here to speak to your Maman," she said by way of greeting to the child standing in the doorway.

The little boy stared up at her. "What's your name?"

"She calls me Mademoiselle Jondrette," Eponine managed to say with a straight face. ' _His hair is the same color as Victor's and his face is like Azelma's,'_ she couldn't help thinking as she watched this child scamper off, calling for his mother. She averted her gaze when she saw another little boy, this one slightly older and with raven hair, watching her keenly from the stairway. The presence of such little gentlemen was so disconcerting such that it was all she could do to put a cordial smile on her face when she saw a comely and sturdily built woman sweep out of the house's tiny drawing room with the younger boy in tow. "Good afternoon Madame Magnon," Eponine greeted.

Suzette Magnon nodded cordially before kissing her child and sending him back to the drawing room. "I have your ten francs, and a favor to ask of you," she said to Eponine as she held out a small purse.

"What sort of favor?" Eponine asked.

"I need you to carry this to Brujon," Magnon replied, holding out a letter. "Do not dare open it and don't lose time."

"Where can I find him?"

"They will be meeting this afternoon near the plain of Issy. There is a quarry there."

"And not near the Salpetriere?" Eponine blurted out. Patron-Minette and its associates usually met in this neighbourhood, owing to the police's general reluctance to frequent this area.

Magnon shook her head. "The  _cognes_  have more eyes about."

' _Who?'_ Eponine wondered but she knew better than to pry, especially given what she also had to say to Magnon. "Would you know of a situation? I'd like to take a look at a dry-goods shop," she said casually as she tucked the letter into her pocket.

"Dry-goods?" Magnon asked.

"Someone I'm trying to watch," Eponine replied. Since it would not do to dig up any information on Verdier's social life, she figured she could make an attempt with regard to his trade, never mind her friends' warnings on this matter.

Magnon crossed her arms. "If this is for Montparnasse, he'll need more than that tailcoat of his to do the work."

"It's not for him."

"Then who?"

Eponine bit her lip before the answer could leave her lips. "Another business contact."

"Hmph, well I'll have to ask then. Come by tomorrow and I'll tell you," Magnon said before curtly tossing the purse to Eponine. "Now I must see to my sons."

"Thank you Madame," Eponine said, making a sort of polite bow before quickly quitting the house, even as she already knew that her personal part of the errand was futile. ' _How hard it is to play at being a lady!'_ she thought petulantly as she walked down the Rue Clocheperce. Magnon had everything for the part, right down to two little boys who were her claim to having birthed some respectability. "Little does anyone know!" she muttered.

The Rue Clocheperce, being in the Marais, was virtually across Paris from the quarries, so Eponine was forced to use a few sous for an omnibus to help her make the journey. After traversing the southern barriere, she had to walk a long way towards a huge rock face that marked the nearest edge of the quarry. From here there were winding trails that led further into the quarry, meandering among rock spires and sometimes ending in sheer drops. Eponine gingerly wandered through this labyrinth, all the while listening for a whistle, a shout, or anything that could cue her in to Brujon's presence.

She had been walking a little way when she heard the murmur of conversation, but oddly enough this sound was garbled and lilting.  _'Like someone is pronouncing everything wrong,'_ she thought with a frown. This sound wasn't alien to her; she'd heard it before from travellers usually from the south of France. As she walked on she realized that this was not merely a conversation but a discussion, all in thick accents. Now with her curiosity thoroughly piqued, she searched around the rock faces till at last she found a hollow where the voices seemed to be loudest. She crouched behind a rock overhang and peered around only to catch sight of around three dozen men in the hollow and the surrounding area. Several men were in a sort of argument at the head of the group. She bit her lip as she recognized Enjolras in this hubbub; it was strange to hear him speaking in the same patois as these men, especially since she had not seen or heard any sign of him since his abrupt departure from the Gorbeau tenement. Bahorel was also there in the group, listening agitatedly to this debate. It was not easy for Eponine to follow this conversation but she caught some snatches of what sounded like "guns only good against an eighth of a battalion", "the need to make contact with our brothers from Lyon, Marseilles, and Bordeaux," and "no later than summer, that's the only hour left."

Suddenly she felt a hand seize her by her waist, dragging her away from the edge of the rock face. Eponine managed to kick at this assailant, only to end up pushed up against the rocks. She gritted her teeth as she looked about for the source of the iron grip on her arm, which was now partially hidden in shadow. "Good day Monsieur Claquesous."

"You've come a long way for us, little Mademoiselle Thenardier," the ventriloquist greeted mockingly from the darkness.

"I have a letter for Brujon," Eponine answered in a level tone. "Tell me where he is, Monsieur."

The man laughed hollowly from the shadows, sending a chill up Eponine's spine. "Is that your only reason? I know what you have to do with that blond revolutionary boy."

"You mean nothing," Eponine hissed, trying to wrench free.

"Who told him to leave then? We go into his room, not a single sign of him, and  _you_  away from home!" The ventriloquist laughed again. "I heard your father was going to beat you for it."

"He didn't lay a hand on me because I didn't do anything," Eponine retorted. She tried to tug herself free again. "Let me go. Magnon will be angry if I take too long about it."

This information was enough for Claquesous to release his grip. The ventriloquist whistled, making a perfect mimic of a sparrow call, and soon the hulking form of Brujon emerged from behind a rock obelisk. "The message is for you," Claquesous said.

"So I heard," Brujon replied gravely. He looked Eponine over. "My apologies for the reception."

Eponine rubbed her arm. "Why are you so far away from home?"

"Didn't Magnon tell you? We are being watched," Brujon replied.

"By who?"

"They say that it's from the churches, either Saint Meddard or Saint Jacques."

"Someone in those confessionals maybe," Eponine said sardonically.

Brujon nodded. "Whatever it is, keep your head low. How is your sister?"

"She's well," Eponine replied, forcing another smile.

"Ah that is good to hear," Brujon said, clapping his hands slowly at this blatant lie. "Run along and stay out of sight, Mademoiselle. Thank you for the letter."

Eponine made a slight bow before scampering off, taking care to get as far away as she could from these men, as well as the group plotting in the hollow. She approached a fork in a trail and looked around for the nearest path out, but to her horror she saw a group of twelve men walking up the leftmost path. Two of these newcomers were dressed in the uniform of the Prefecture. Immediately Eponine dashed back to where she'd last seen Brujon and talked to Claquesous, but there was no sign of them. Someone had already alerted the men in the hollow, for soon the quarry was filled with hurried footsteps, followed soon by the shouts of the police in pursuit.

Eponine ran down the first trail she could find, desperate to put some distance between herself and the ongoing chaos. In her flight she did not notice that her path suddenly curved towards a sharp incline and in a moment she lost her footing and found herself sliding into a small gully. She yelped as she landed hard in a muddy spot near a rock face. She had to bite her lip to keep from swearing in pain, more so when she heard something rustling in the gravel nearby. When she looked around she saw Enjolras now standing before her, his eyes dark with both confusion and fury.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded harshly.

"Falling down, can't you see?" she snapped. "It wasn't  _my_  doing, if you're asking."

"You're not supposed to be here," he said as he stepped towards her. He made a move as if to yank her to her feet, but stopped when he saw her flinch. "Are you hurt?"

"Not really, I only need a moment," Eponine said as she moved her limbs. Thankfully nothing was broken or sprained, but she knew she would have bruises to hide under her ragged clothes. As for Enjolras, he looked as if he'd been running a long way and his clothes were also dirty, but he seemed otherwise unscathed. "So is this where you have meetings nowadays?"

Enjolras didn't answer but he looked about towards one side of the gully, where there was a narrow sort of passage. "We have to go by that way," he said, now reaching over to help her up more smoothly.

"I s'pose since I can't climb in this dress," Eponine groused. She found she could walk, albeit a little more slowly than she would have liked but it was mobility all the same. "Where did Monsieur Bahorel go?"

"We have to look for him later," Enjolras replied as he slowed his pace to let her catch up. For a moment he held her arm to steady her till she caught her breath. "I take that you were meeting some...contacts of your father?" he asked at length.

Eponine could only nod, mostly owing to the fact that the brief touch of his long fingers on her bare arm was somehow making her face feel hot. "I heard you and the rest talking. It sounds so funny," she remarked. "What sort of French was that?"

"It is Occitan," Enjolras said.

"I didn't know you could speak that way."

"I was born in Aix, in Provence."

"That is so far away!" she blurted out, thinking back on a map she'd seen once at the Fabre residence. Provence was all the way in the southeast, close to the coast. "Is Aix a big town?"

"Not in comparison to Paris." He did not speak again till they were a good way out of the quarry and back on the open plains surrounding the quarry. "You'd better go home, Citizenness," he said once they were back on the road leading to the barriere.

"I can't go home just yet since it might lead the police to the neighbourhood," Eponine replied. "Besides I'd like to know who told on the place."

"It may be more than one person," Enjolras pointed out.

"I s'pose then it will take two or more people to do the asking," Eponine said, thinking back now on her conversation with Brujon.

Enjolras gave her a curious glance. "Are you aware of any movements?"

"I only heard one thing, to be careful of churches," she replied. "Confessionals."

"Convenient," he remarked. "How is your other inquiry proceeding?"

Eponine shrugged, knowing that he was referring to her efforts on Azelma's behalf. "Nothing much yet on Monsieur Verdier, but I've learned a little about everything else," she said. She could only dream that Magnon's help, no matter how middling, would prove to be a step forward. ' _But hopefully one of Papa's many names can give me something to start from too,'_ she thought.

She had half-expected Enjolras to head for the busy territory of the Latin Quartier, but to her surprise he took them on a roundabout route through the Champ de Mars, then the Rue de Ile des Cygnes before crossing the river at the Pont des Invalides. His purposeful stride made it clear that he was more angry than surprised by this turn of events; most likely he was at least cognizant of the possibility of the police taking drastic measures to quash any attempts at conspiracy. It was more than Eponine could ever say for other people involved in shady misdeeds of a different sort, but she was not sure if she was admiring or terrified at the fact.

They eventually arrived at the Cours la Reine, a promenade along the Seine near the area of the Tuileries. This park was simple, comprised of four rows of elm trees planted to leave a wide central lane running the length of the walk. Yet there was a particular elegance to this place, such that Eponine almost could lull herself into believing that she was here on a delightful afternoon stroll, but one look at her ragged clothes and Enjolras' equally begrimed state was enough to destroy the illusion. For a moment her mind went to Cosette and Marius, who were most likely preparing for an evening rendezvous under the eaves of the house at the Rue Plumet, and for a moment Eponine felt a little stab of envy; such simple blissful times would never be hers, not even if there would be anyone who cared enough to share such a moment with her. She bit back a sigh as she went with Enjolras towards the midpoint of the walk before heading to the row of trees nearest the riverbank.

In this shaded nook, Enjolras nodded to a man sitting by one of the taller elm trees, with his face half hidden by the brim of his straw hat. "Good afternoon, Feuilly."

The man named Feuilly took off his hat to reveal his tousled dark hair and a cheery, though hardened face. He was quite spare in build, with callused and paint-stained hands that he kept by the pockets of his simple but old coat and trousers. "Hello Enjolras." He looked quizzically at Eponine for a moment before a polite smile of acknowledgment crept on his face. "You must be Citizenness Thenardier."

Eponine's jaw dropped."Who told you who I am?"

"Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Musichetta, and Victor," Feuilly said.

"They told you how awful I am, I guess."

"Quite the opposite."

Eponine laughed, more so when she noticed the discomfited look that crossed Enjolras' face. "Are you waiting for them too?" she asked Feuilly.

"Somewhat," Feuilly replied before looking at Enjolras again. "I heard the news from Bahorel and the others," he said gravely. "Ten of the Courgourde were rounded up and are being brought to La Force. Bahorel has gone to speak with some of the others and to ascertain their whereabouts."

Enjolras nodded grimly as he clasped Feuilly's shoulder. "We have to meet them tonight."

On hearing this, Eponine bit her lip, now feeling a little disheartened that she would have to leave these men to their business. "Thank you for seeing me here, Monsieur Enjolras," she said.

Enjolras smiled, perhaps more warmly than how Eponine expected, but whatever levity in his face was dispelled when he noticed another figure walking jauntily up the promenade. "What brings you here, Citizen?" he greeted Victor.

Victor saluted him and Feuilly, then thumbed his nose at Eponine. "News and more news."

"From La Force?" Enjolras questioned.

"No, nothing of that ruckus," Victor said. "There are eyes watching at Saint Sulpice."

Enjolras' look only grew grimmer at this announcement. "Who?"

"The new warden," Victor said.

' _Is that why he talked to Mabeuf this morning?'_ Eponine wondered silently. It occurred to her that perhaps the Fabres were unaware of their son's whereabouts; who knew how long had Victor been keeping up his own inquiries? "What else?" she asked.

"Rumor has it of a lady watching at Saint Jacques, but we cannot be sure about that," Feuilly chimed in. "Some bourgeoisie though, but as to her relation with the police, no one can be sure."

"Bossuet also told me to tell you there's been trouble at the moneylenders; he's casting about for more news on that right now so that's why he's absent," Victor said. "Said you'd know better than anyone else," he added, pointing to Feuilly.

"There's been a stir at Les Halles," Feuilly explained to Eponine, Enjolras, and Victor. "Some traders, led by a man named Verdier, are at war with the moneylenders because of their accounts standing from even before last year."

"Verdier, the dry goods trader?" Eponine asked.

"Yes. You know the man?" Feuilly replied.

"Somewhat," Eponine replied. "What is the trouble with him?"

"He's in debt and about to lose his business if he's not careful!" Victor crowed. "How will your old man like that?" he asked Eponine.

Eponine shrugged. "I don't know." She swallowed hard as she caught for a moment Enjolras' knowing but challenging look, knowing that he too had seen the course of action that she was being inexorably guided to.


	18. Chapter 18: A Woman's Hand in a Man's World

**Chapter 18: A Woman's Hand in a World of Men**

The knowledge of Verdier's debts was enough to rekindle Eponine's hopes for her sister's situation, and now all she needed was the additional knowledge to strengthen her confidence. ' _I imagined though I'd find what I needed in someplace nicer,'_ she mused a little disgustedly the next day as she and Victor Fabre made their way through the neighbourhood of Saint-Merry. Although this was hardly her first visit to the area of Les Halles, she still could not completely shake a sense of unease about the cramped streets and alleyways, all stinking with a mire comprised of the dregs from human and animal activity. In fact Eponine felt her stomach lurch as she and Victor hurried past a house whose rotting steps were piled high with garbage. "Why would Verdier go here?" she asked as she pinched her nose.

"Because no one else wants to," Victor said as he made an exaggerated waving gesture. "Come on, Ponine, keep up!"

"I don't know this place as well as you!" Eponine groused. "How is it that you can go here all the way across the Seine, when you're supposed to be at Mabeuf's for your lessons?"

"I could do other things with daylight and moonlight," Victor replied cheekily. "Besides Mabeuf has work of his own, and I don't want to put my paws there."

"How is it that your maman and your grandfather don't know about you going about with the young men and being at their meetings?" Eponine asked querulously. ' _Then again they don't seem to know about Cosette and Monsieur Pontmercy,'_ she realized.

"Grandfather doesn't ask very much, and I go when Maman is out and about too," Victor replied with a shrug. He looked around the deserted street before putting his hands in his pockets in an attempt to adopt a schoolmasterly attitude. "There's a change in the tide, Ponine. That's why the police have been looking sharp."

Eponine bit her lip, remembering now the meeting she'd accidentally overheard at the quarry a few days ago. For a moment she imagined a gun in young Victor's hands, and she flinched till the vision disappeared just as quickly as it materialized. I s'pose you aren't worried about what they will do to you if things go worse than they did two years ago?"

"If we give them enough shot, they'll be crying 'Long Live the Republic' soon enough!"

"Didn't they do just that, and put a king back anyway?"

"Because Lafayette wouldn't do the right thing," Victor retorted as they reached a tall house near the corner of the Rue Grenier. Taking up most of the narrow street was a non-descript green carriage, but its clean and well-polished state still betrayed the station of its owner. "Some swell calling there," Victor snickered as he pointed to the vehicle.

"A swell I know," Eponine said, seeing that the carriage door was simply decorated with gold lettering spelling out  _B V_. She had glimpsed this device before, on the Rue Saint Sebastien. She clenched her fist before hurrying over to the door of the house and knocking twice to gain admittance. "Aren't you coming?" she asked, seeing that Victor was not behind her but he still stood in the street.

"I'm expected at Corinthe," Victor said with a sweeping bow.

"Corinthe?"

"A place for messenger birds."

Before Eponine could ask about this, the boy had made another bow to her before running off down the street. "Imp!" she shouted after him, but he was already out of earshot. ' _It must be a place, but what sort of place?'_ she wondered even as the door opened slowly.

A wheezing porter showed her into a room that was lit with so many lamps such that the entire effect was garish, almost frightening. A hulking, bearded man sat at a large desk lined from end to end with drawers. Talking intently with this man and gesticulating with every word was none other than Verdier. Gone was the confident, almost breezy man who'd wined and dined with her family; in his place was a form so marked by lines on his brow and sunken cheeks. ' _He is in more trouble than we all know,'_ Eponine realized as she walked up to one end of the table. "Good morning Monsieur Verdier," she greeted. "How does it go with you?"

The trader's eyes widened with shock and astonishment before he quickly gripped the edge of the table. "What are you doing here, Mademoiselle Thenardier?"

"Oh come, is that a way to speak to your almost-sister?" Eponine cajoled. "Does my father know you visit this sort of place?"

Verdier's jaw dropped and he shot a furtive glance at the moneylender who was eyeing him with a mocking sneer. "This is a matter of business. You do not need to meddle in it."

"You're lying to my father and my sister," Eponine said accusingly.

"I can assure you that this is not how it looks."

"How can you marry my sister if you hardly have any money to keep her well?"

Verdier blanched at these words but he quickly regained his composure and sat up straight. "Mademoiselle, the life of a businessman is complicated. He must see to his own work as well as to his station in the world. I am sure you understand what I mean."

These words evoked an image of Azelma on Verdier's arm, looking beautiful wearing a lace gown and with her long hair in knots and braids. It reminded Eponine a little too much of one of the last dolls she'd owned, a lovely one with a porcelain face that had unexpectedly shattered during one of her family's very chaotic moves. "And you think my sister can help you with this?" Eponine retorted, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

"Yes, and I can assure you that I will treat her well," Verdier said in a tone that would have been kind but only seemed condescending with the way he was looking at her. "I will not be an unkind husband."

' _Will it be enough?'_ Eponine wondered but she bit her lip in order to banish the thoughts that threatened to betray her; to voice them out would only make Verdier think that she was a simpering, sentimental fool. "And what will my father say to this?"

"I will make good to him as soon as I can resolve this little trouble. I am a man of my word, Mademoiselle," Verdier said. His voice was low and cold when he spoke again. "Till then I charge you not to mention this to him."

"You cannot ask me to do it," Eponine retorted glibly. "What kind of daughter would I be?"

"A good one. Your father is aging, and you would do him a great service by allowing me to take your sister as my bride and easing your family's burden greatly."

"Azelma is not a burden!"

Verdier was silent, taken aback for a brief moment, but all of a sudden he began to chuckle. "Your father said you were clever, but he failed to say how spirited you are. I am sure that quality of yours charms your suitors."

Eponine felt her face burn at this remark, even as her mind went briefly to the various young men she'd chanced to be acquainted with over the past few weeks. ' _They'd never look my way even if they didn't have ladies of their own,'_ she thought as she clenched her fists. "I'm not someone you can say those things to. You do not know me, Monsieur. You're also no family of mine so you cannot command me to not say or do things. I'll have them know, Monsieur so good bye to you," she said before making a slight curtsy and walking out the door amid the stunned silence of the moneylender's lackeys and other clients. Once she was out in the street though she broke into a run, eager to put as much distance between her and the house before anyone could think to catch her. Now that she had seen proof of Verdier's dealings and debts, she knew that she could confront her father more readily, perhaps that very night. ' _All I have to do is get Papa to come down and speak to that Monsieur Verdier,"_ she thought, feeling a slight frisson of confidence. Yet who knew how truthful such a conversation would be?

Nevertheless that was not something Eponine could see to, at least on this day. In the meantime there was still the matter of Victor Fabre and making sure he got home before he could get caught up in some mishap with the other young men. After a little asking about, she gathered that Corinthe was actually a place in Paris, and not merely the city she'd heard of in the Scriptures. Luckily it was at least on the same side of the Seine, a good walk away but nonetheless nearer than Eponine had imagined.

After about half an hour, she finally arrived on the Rue de la Chanvrerie, a narrow street that reminded her somewhat of a funnel, but thankfully with a light at the end of it. She could hear the sounds of laughter and merriment even from the street, thus prompting her to venture forth. She stepped into a crowded first floor room, where there was a sort of bar where several artisans and workingmen had congregated to heckle a serving maid. This group was noisy enough, but there was an even larger ruckus from the floor above, which seemed to be accessible by a spiral staircase. Eponine traversed the shadows to reach this stairway, and caught up her skirt in order to keep it from catching on the splintery treads. This stairway opened onto a long room that had a window at the far end, making the place seem like a far more welcoming version of the garret at the Marche aux Chevaux. It helped that the room, for all its clutter of furniture, was clean and warm, and that the conversation there was seemingly amiable. Eponine stood on tiptoe to try to catch a glimpse of Victor in this crowd; although she was taller than most girls, she was stuck in the rear of the room, where her view was obscured by some gentlemen who had taken to standing while laughing and smoking.

She was so occupied that she failed to notice a large hand reaching for her till it closed about her arm. "What are you doing here, young lady?" a gruff voice asked.

Eponine realized that the hand belonged to a powerfully built man who had the air of a stevedore from the riverbanks. He was dressed in a long sort of smock, clearly betraying the fact that he'd just come straight from work. With him was another colossus, but one who was more neatly dressed in a shirt, waistcoat, and trousers. "I'm here looking for a friend, a young boy named Victor Fabre. Have you seen him?" she asked in a level tone.

"We're the ones asking questions here, girl," the second colossus growled. "The likes of you shouldn't be in these parts."

"Tell me where Monsieur, I mean, Citizen Fabre is," Eponine said.

The men laughed as they exchanged glances. "What would you do to find out-"one of them began as he leered at Eponine.

Suddenly another hand clamped this man's shoulder. "Unhand her, Citizen Gervais," Enjolras said sternly to the stevedore.

Gervais started for a moment but he let go of Eponine and stepped away. "This hussy is looking for the boy," he said.

"She is a relation of his. She'll wait here for him," Enjolras said.

Eponine opened her mouth to protest but she caught sight of Enjolras making a quick gesture towards a table where Feuilly was already seated. ' _They probably have something to ask of me,'_ she thought but she still managed a nod of gratitude at this young man's intervention. "Thank you Citizen Enjolras," she said with a nod before going to the seat he'd pointed out to her.

Feuilly raised his glass of wine by way of greeting as she sat down. "Victor is only going out after some friends of ours at Rue Saint-Denis. Enjolras is meeting with Jeanne," he explained, indicating where the student had now returned to a conversation with an older, slightly built gentleman with dark hair. "Have you eaten already, Citizenness Thenardier?"

"I'm not hungry," Eponine replied. She crossed her arms as she looked around the busy room and realized that Joly was there too, talking to a balding friend of his as well as another gentleman who looked as if his face had been squished in by a few too many fights. "How sure are you that the police haven't gotten in here too like they did at the Musain?"

Feuilly sighed as he put down his drink. "We try to be vigilant. Admittedly it is sometimes a little brusque, but everyone here has a vested interest in protecting their own." He looked towards where Enjolras and Jeanne were now in deep discussion with two other gentlemen. "From what I gather, you saved Enjolras from Patron-Minette."

"You know them?" Eponine asked.

"From afar," Feuilly replied. "He also mentioned that you have political opinions, a little different from his, but opinions nonetheless."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No. It does raise a few questions."

Eponine made a scoffing noise, but did not say anything to address Feuilly's pointed words. ' _What could I say about opinions anyway?'_ she wondered. Much of what she knew about politics and events, at least till recently, had been through what her father had told her, and even so she was beginning to question some of the philosophy there. Even so, she doubted she had the eloquence that would allow her to properly express these thoughts. She glanced to where Enjolras was intently outlining some point to his companions; somehow he commanded the attention of even the other men seated at nearby tables, even if he wasn't directly addressing them. ' _What wouldn't I give to be able to talk that way and have someone listen!'_ she couldn't help thinking even as she inched her seat forward to be able to catch more of his impassioned explanation. Even when he'd stopped speaking and the conversation proceeded more quietly, the air still felt charged with a certain energy that banished whatever trepidation and languor Eponine was feeling.

So when Enjolras finally took leave of Jeanne and his companions and crossed the room, Eponine sat up straight to look at him. "Why did you send Victor out? He was to wait for me here," she asked.

"He volunteered," Enjolras answered as he sat down across from her. "I am sorry if this inconveniences you, Citizenness."

"I s'pose not. You haven't said anything that's offended my politics," she replied.

He smirked at this little joke before looking at Feuilly. "We'll call the meeting to order in a few minutes, when more of the others arrive such as Jeanne's neighbors."

The workingman nodded before looking to where some other men were signing to him. "I believe I must mollify poor Gervais. Will you two be fine here?"

"I won't do him harm, don't worry," Eponine said cheekily while Enjolras only nodded. She waited for Feuilly to join his other friends before looking to where Enjolras was silently watching the crowd. His shoulders were squared and his jaw was set, as if he was inwardly wrestling with something. She inched her seat closer to his, prompting him to look at her. "Are you well?" she asked.

He nodded slightly. "How did you find this place?"

"I asked a bit about Corinthe," Eponine replied, wondering if he was now suspicious about her presence. Yet he did not make any move to shoo her away, as most logical people would have. She saw him smile at this, as if he had been expecting this inquisitiveness from her, but there was still something strained in his mien. "I know you have a great deal to worry about. Haven't you got anyone to help you there?" she asked him after a moment.

"They are all doing what they can," Enjolras replied. "There are some urgent matters that have to be addressed today."

"Is there any way I can help you?" she asked, only to bite her lip when she saw the surprised look in his eyes. "You've been kind to me, and I should find some way to thank you."

"I would not call it a kindness to put you in harm's way, Citizenness Thenardier."

"Why do you call me that, as if I was a lady?"

Enjolras gave her a surprised look. "Why, do you expect to be treated otherwise?"

"I s'pose I'm not used to it," she confessed. Although she was no stranger to politeness, her experience of it outside from her interactions with the Fabres had always been of the more grudging, almost too formal sort of courtesy. As cordial and otherwise reserved as Enjolras usually was, there was an undeniable lack of artifice, at least in the way he spoke with her. She managed to smile again when she met his keen eyes. "And I s'pose too that you aren't used to ladies not being afraid about helping you gentlemen out."

Enjolras' look grew thoughtful as he regarded her for a moment. "Are you so determined?"

Eponine nodded. "If Victor can do it, so can I. I'm a bigger sort."

The young man smirked again and returned her nod just before a chorus of voices came from the stairway, where Victor, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Bahorel had just arrived. Victor was downcast and trying to hide his distraught face in his muffler despite Bahorel's attempts to talk to him, while Combeferre and Courfeyrac were grim and agitated.

"Bad news?" Enjolras asked.

"The good ones first; the Saint-Denis group is downstairs, and they are just getting their drinks downstairs from Mother Hucheloup," Courfeyrac said.

"The rest then?" Enjolras asked.

"We've found out the identity of the informant at Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas," Combeferre said. "A young matron, who is known as  _La Blonde_."

Eponine looked from Combeferre then to where Victor was dejectedly trying to regain his composure. Only one possibility could produce this sort of effect, and to contemplate it was like taking a punch to the stomach. "No. Not her."

"I wish we could say otherwise, Citizenness Thenardier, but we saw her ourselves in the company of Inspector Perrot at the Prefecture office itself," Combeferre said. He sat down and let out a deep sigh. "The question now is, why is Mademoiselle Fabre informing on her own son?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: The Price of Truth**

Once Eponine was certain that Victor and his friends were not playing some terrible, convoluted joke, she found that all words on the matter failed her utterly. _'Why else would the gendarmes let us escape from the Musain without much fuss?'_ she wondered silently as she listened to Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Feuilly discussing what they had just learned. Everything seemed to fall into place: Fantine's absences, the secretiveness the rest of the Fabre family was subjected to, and even the latest spate of arrests. In fact it was quite surprising she hadn't imagined such a possibility sooner.

After a while she saw Enjolras leave his friends in order to talk to Victor. For a moment it seemed as if Victor was too despondent to speak but something in the student's firm words had him nodding with a little less mortification. Eponine waited for Victor to go off to speak with Combeferre before going to where Enjolras was now seated again, busy writing down something. "I s'pose I should bring him back home now," she said to him.

"That may be best for him," he said softly, as if speaking more to himself than to her.

"You aren't angry?"

"I'm not pleased. That is all."

She bit her lip at the tinge of vitriol in Enjolras' otherwise calm words. "So what will you do now?" she asked a little worriedly.

"Ascertain the safety of the others," the student replied. His eyes were deep when he met her gaze, as if he was trying to guess something about her. "What about you?"

This question left Eponine speechless for a moment; was he asking about her debacle with Verdier or this new situation with the Fabres? "I have to speak with Cosette," she finally said. "Did you know that your friend Marius Pontmercy has been meeting her? I s'pose it's best that someone tells them what's been going on too," she added when she saw Enjolras look at her confusedly.

Enjolras nodded after a moment. "Does Citizenness Fabre the younger share her brother's political sentiments?" he asked.

"She doesn't speak much about politics much to anyone, or at least when I'm there," Eponine replied, surprised that Enjolras had asked about Cosette in reference to Victor and not to Marius. What did Marius and Cosette discuss anyway on those long nights in the Rue Plumet? For a moment Eponine pictured her good friend blushing as Marius whispered in her ear, but the image somehow seemed a little ludicrous. _'But maybe it helps her smile a little more easily,'_ she couldn't help thinking.

Enjolras was silent for a little longer as he set down his pen altogether. "Are the Fabres aware of your particular stances also, Citizenness?" he inquired;

This time, Eponine burst out laughing. "Why would they be offended at a Bonapartist?" She chuckled again on seeing a knowing smile tug at Enjolras' lips. "Monsieur, I doubt that I myself would be in danger from them. You remember who I am more worried about."

"I see. And how are matters on that front?"

"I've learned a thing or two that may help me and Zelma. I s'pose I've got a chance of it."

"Good." Although his expression was still stern there was a warmth in that single word that buoyed her spirits significantly, even when she saw that the meeting was being called to order and she would have to leave with Victor.

"Come on, we have to go," she said as she went to the corner where he was polishing off the last of the pastries on a plate.

Victor wiped his mouth. "I won't know what to say when I go home."

"I s'pose you ought not to before your Maman asks too much," she said, now feeling unsettled at the fearfulness in Victor's mien. How long had he been evading Fantine? Or perhaps had Fantine been deliberately allowing the boy to run about with his friends? She shuddered, not wishing to know the answer. As she and Victor were about to descend to the ground floor of Corinthe, she thought of saying goodbye to their friends, but she saw that they, especially Enjolras, were in the middle of discussion. _'I s'pose if they will need me they will know where I'm at,'_ she thought as she and Victor left the bistro.

When they arrived at the Rue Plumet, Eponine lost no time in dislodging the loose bar at the gate so that she and Victor could slip into the yard. She saw Cosette through the front room window, busy dusting off the mantelpiece. Eponine hurriedly knocked on the glass to call her friend's attention before dashing to the front door. "Cosette! Do you know where your Maman is now?" she asked breathlessly.

Cosette shook her head. "She said she was going to some shops. I don't know exactly where."

"She's been going about with police officers," Eponine said. "Victor saw her."

Cosette paled as she stepped out of the house and sat on the front step. She shook her head, as if in disbelief and then took a few deep breaths. "Why?"

"It was because of that time we were almost caught at the Musain," Victor replied. "The officer who was there has been asking her to help him."

Cosette nodded, seeing the possibility that Victor was hinting at. "Does Grandfather know?"

Victor shrugged. "You and that Pontmercy fellow had better watch what you're squawking about."

Cosette's cheeks reddened for a brief moment. "You promised you wouldn't tell!" she hissed.

Victor stuck out his tongue at her just as the door of the house opened. His jaw dropped when he realized who was standing there. "Hello Grandfather."

Monsieur Fabre nodded gravely. "Why don't you children come inside?" he asked. "There's a fire if you want it."

Cosette got to her feet and took another deep breath. "Grandfather, is it true about Maman and the police?" she asked in a steady voice.

The elderly gentleman heaved a deep sigh. "Your mother only means to protect us all." He also looked seriously at Eponine. "You and your family as well."

"How could you let her do it?" Cosette demanded.

"I would rather not have it so. I spoke with her about it, but there is no way yet out of this bind," Monsieur Fabre said, suddenly sounding far older and more weighed down. "If there was, I'm sure she would have found it by now."

"It's still wrong, Grandfather."

"Cosette, you do not understand, not yet."

"I do understand!" Cosette retorted. "I'm not a child anymore!"

Monsieur Fabre looked down. "Unfortunately."

Eponine did not look at either Cosette or Victor, but she was sure that both of them were close to tears. _They never lie as well as I do,'_ she realized, remembering now that she too had been evading her parents all because of Azelma, and dare she think it, even her new friends. She bit her lip at this thought; months ago this would have been impossible, with only the Fabres and Montparnasse for company. 'I'm only thankful that they've treated me well, that's all.'

In the midst of her reverie she did not notice that Victor and Monsieur Fabre had already gone inside the house, while Cosette leaned now with her head against the door, clearly trying to keep her composure. "I have to warn Marius," Cosette said at last as she stood up straight and wrung her hands. "He doesn't go to the meetings of the students, but he still knows them and that might still count for something with the police."

Eponine nodded by way of acknowledgment. "What about Victor?"

"I don't know if I could ever stop him," Cosette admitted. "I'm always afraid that he might just leave one day and never come back to us-not because he got hurt but because he got angry and would want to live elsewhere."

'Does Victor know the truth about why he's with them to begin with?' Eponine wanted to ask, but she bit back the pointed query. "Are you ever going to ask your Maman about what Victor told us?"

"I can't. You know how she is," Cosette said. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't let Maman stand in for me when we got caught at the Musain-"

"Then the police would have made you do worse," Eponine said adamantly. 'Then of course Madame Fantine wouldn't stand for it, and this would happen all over again,' she thought.

"If I ever see that officer again, I'd love to throw a stone at his head," Cosette said as she bunched up her skirt in her fist. "I'll do that or I'll tell him exactly what I think of him-"

"Oh Cosette, I'd worry for him then!" Eponine said wryly, rubbing her arms as a cold breeze blew through the garden. "I s'pose I should go before your Maman comes back."

"Yes, but don't stay away altogether, Ponine, not because of this," Cosette begged. "It's only you and Marius who give me news of anything. I almost feel as if I'm only watching when I should be doing."

_'Little do you know!'_ Eponine thought; had it been up to her she would have wanted even just one day without a single scheme on her mind. "You might want to be careful what you wish for, Cosette, you might one day find yourself doing too much!" she quipped before slipping out again through the garden gate and back onto the street.

As she walked down the Rue Plumet she noticed a fiacre coming up in the opposite direction. Almost without thinking of it, Eponine immediately concealed herself behind a row of bare bushes, and watched as the fiacre drew up to the house she had just left. She bit her lip as she saw Fantine alight on the arm of a tall man who she now knew to be Inspector Perrot. The inspector exchanged a few words with Fantine before kissing her on the mouth and then stepping back into the carriage as Fantine let herself into the yard.

It was now clear to Eponine what she would have to do. She waited till the carriage passed by her on the road, and then began running as the carriage turned towards the Rue de Sevres. _'Where does that inspector go next?'_ she wondered as she tried to keep within sight of the vehicle, which was becoming increasingly difficult to do as she felt a sharp pain beginning to flare up in her side.

Suddenly a pair of hands seized her by her shoulders, dragging her backwards and knocking her against a brick wall before she had the chance to even cry out. She felt sick and dizzy as she fell to the ground, at the feet of a large pair of boots. _'Like those at the docks...'_ it occurred to her as she tried to see through the haze of pain, only to fall into a cold darkness.


	20. Chapter 20: Misdeeds of the Law

**Chapter 20: Misdeeds of the Law**

' _If you run, it will be your daughter we'll go after.'_

These words uttered one night outside the Musain, more than anything else, were enough to keep Fantine at Inspector Perrot's side in the fiacre bound for the Rue Plumet. Regardless of how many times the inspector gallantly paid for her carriage fare, treated her to meals at some of the more reputable cafes, or offered to purchase one trinket after another for her, she still could not quite look him in the face. ' _What will happen when I can no longer answer any of his questions?'_ she wondered as the vehicle lurched over a rut in the road.

The truth was that Inspector Thierry Perrot was far from being the worst of men. ' _He doesn't beat me, yell at me or force me to do much with him,'_ Fantine told herself over and over again. In fact he treated her as a respectable sort of matron, taking care not to importune her with anything that could be misconstrued as less than decorous. He was straightforward and imposing with a full head of hair, a far cry from the longwinded and bald Tholomyes, who had dwindled to a small point in Fantine's memories. Nevertheless even the barest recollection of Tholomyes' crooked visage would have been a small comfort to her in this cold winter.

She heard the officer grunt as he shifted in his seat. "Your son's movements have not been forthcoming since the raid on the quarry," he said pointedly. "We need to know where those troublemakers are hiding and conducting their meetings nowadays."

"He isn't with them all the time," Fantine replied in a level tone. It was only a small comfort that Victor's dealings with Bahorel and his friends did not usually involve matters of blood or armaments. Yet how long could that last?

The inspector grunted again as he rubbed his hands. "What of your daughter?"

"I thought we agreed to keep her out of this arrangement," Fantine replied, now looking at him. "Besides, she does not know anything of this."

"Doesn't she have a suitor, a particular friend, or even merely an admirer?" Perrot asked.

"None."

"What of other friends? I understand she has a childhood friend who visits often?"

Fantine shook her head; even after all these weeks she could not quite pinpoint the doings of Eponine Thenardier. "That friend is even more secretive than my own child."

Perrot sighed impatiently. "If you cannot follow your son, then you must take that girl into your confidence. Be a second mother to her."

' _Not with Lisette still around,'_ Fantine thought, wincing for a moment as she recalled her most recent conversation with Mme. Thenardier. That was a bond she would not dare to shake. "I would suggest you try inquiring elsewhere such as from the Latin Quartier grisettes," she finally said. "They know things a lady like me wouldn't."

"What, consort with those whores?" Perrot laughed. "Many of them are too foolish and so their lovers deceive them. Then there are those who are as thick as thieves with the insurrectionists, and those are the sorts who are more elusive than the men themselves."

"There are those who just know things," Fantine answered, remembering for a moment a dark haired grisette who she'd glimpsed at the Musain, but who she also knew to be working in the neighbourhood of the Rue Ferou.

"Are you suggesting I find another informant?" Perrot asked.

Fantine shook her head. "I'm only saying where I'll look out next."

Perrot drummed his fingers on the seat. "You understand the danger that your family is in, I know. You must see also that we are doing this for the safety of all, not just a few. There have been too many emeutes in Paris, and unless we weed out the main troublemakers, all this unrest will still continue."

' _Those men have mothers too, whole families maybe,'_ Fantine thought but she merely looked down. She could still remember the young men she'd seen Cosette, Victor, and the Thenardier girls speaking to on the Luxembourg; surely all of them had parents anxiously waiting for their letters. She let out a slow breath of relief when she saw the carriage stop outside of her home at the Rue Plumet. "I understand, Monsieur," she finally said.

Perrot nodded approvingly before helping her out of the carriage and walking her to the gate. "Until we meet again, Madame Fabre," he said before kissing her lips.

The mere contact of his mouth on hers had Fantine stiffening for a moment till she willed herself to remain relaxed at least till he tipped his hat to her and headed back to the carriage. Yet she could not suppress a shudder as she let herself into the gate. ' _What should I do about him?'_ she wondered, fighting the impolite urge to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. She took a few deep breaths before straightening out her shawl and then going into the house. After straightening up the front room and heating up some water for tea, she headed to the back lodge, as she was wont to do after these harrowing trips with Perrot.

In this apartment, Jean Valjean was seated in his favourite chair, a straight backed wooden one with only a rough cushion for comfort. He was seemingly engrossed in his reading, a book from the new priest at Saint-Sulpice, but he immediately set this aside on hearing Fantine's step in the threshold. "Fantine, are you well?" he asked kindly.

She shook her head as she doffed her bonnet and took a seat next to his, as she was wont to do after these harrowing trips with Perrot. "I do not know what to do about him. They want me to continue looking in on the children," she confessed.

Jean Valjean's brow furrowed for a moment, but his countenance was grave when he looked at Fantine. "Cosette and Victor know you've been talking to the police."

She sat up straight. "How?"

"Victor learned from Monsieur Bahorel, and two other friends of theirs. He told Cosette after and Eponine as well," he explained.

Fantine shook her head in disbelief. "I was very careful. I took care to stay out of sight..." she trailed off. Yet it was not like Jean Valjean to tell an untruth, and his very mien only confirmed his words. For some time she was silent as she tried to figure out where she had committed a misstep, but she could not pinpoint an exact moment wherein things went wrong. "I only did it to protect them, all of us."

"I told them so."

"I didn't want it to end up this way."

Jean Valjean nodded knowingly. "Then you must explain it to them."

"I'd lose them," she whispered. ' _Victor would leave, and I'd never be able to look at Cosette again,'_ she thought, feeling as if something had gripped her chest from within. "I'd rather go to jail myself!"

Jean Valjean's expression was stricken as he looked away from her. "Fantine, you don't know of what you speak," he murmured.

Fantine's jaw dropped as she realized what she had just uttered. "I'm sorry Monsieur Valjean!" she whispered as she clutched his arm. "I didn't mean to be awful, but you know what I mean..." she added. "Why must a good man like you have gone to such a terrible place?"

"There is no good man here," Jean Valjean said in a tone that was both firm and wistful.

"You're wrong, Monsieur. You're the best man there ever was," Fantine insisted. Why should a man as devious as Perrot could be considered so acceptable and a saint like Jean Valjean be forced to live almost at the edge of the world? ' _Why must this world be so awful?'_ she wondered as she tried to blink away the hot tears that clouded her vision. Seeing that Jean Valjean was seemingly deep in thought, she murmured an apology and then excused herself to return to the house.

She could hear both Cosette and Victor upstairs, but now she did not dare knock on their doors if only for the fact that she was still at a loss as to what to say to either of them. ' _If only it would become easier after a while,'_ she thought as she sat down to do some knitting for the usual basket at the church of Saint Jacques. Unfortunately even this once useful diversion failed her, and she found herself dropping stitches from time to time. When she resignedly put down her work she found that the sun was already low in the sky, but the house was still silent. Unable to bear it anymore, she wrapped herself up warmly, put on her best hat, and headed out once more.

She knew that it was about this hour that the shops in the Rue Ferou would close; perhaps she could catch a glimpse of whoever a certain seamstress kept company with after work. When Fantine arrived at this street, the shop was closed, but there was a flurry of activity outside one particular apartment near the cul de sac. Two young men were there, carrying in what appeared to be an injured young girl. Meeting them at the door were none other than the grisette that Fantine had been watching, as well as a tall, balding fellow.

"Joly is upstairs; he's only washing up," the balding fellow remarked as he shrugged on his coat. "Courfeyrac, should I still look for Combeferre?"

"He should at least know; if he's not busy at the Necker, bring him along," Courfeyrac said. "Someone should warn Victor Fabre too."

"And become the reeds that betrayed Midas?" asked Courfeyrac's companion, a man with a crooked nose and scrunched up face.

"He was with us, and her, earlier in the day," Courfeyrac replied grimly. "Don't drop her, Capital R."

Fantine inched forward to see who they were carrying in, and gasped as she caught sight of the girl's auburn hair. The sound drew the attention of the grisette, who stepped out of the apartment and headed for the cul de sac. The younger woman stopped and crossed her arms when she saw Fantine. "Mademoiselle Fabre, what brings you here?" she asked.

"I was passing by..." Fantine began, but the grisette merely raised an eyebrow. "Mademoiselle, I know her, and her mother. I have to notify her family that she is here."

The grisette shook her head. "I think someone will have already done that. You're not the only one who knows her address."

It was all that Fantine could do to keep from grimacing; once again she'd fallen too many steps behind. "What happened to her?"

"Wouldn't you know?" the grisette asked icily. "She was found near the Rue de Sevres, not far from where you live."

Fantine shook her head even as it registered that  _somehow_  this woman, and her friends, knew of the house at the Rue Plumet. ' _Probably Victor's doing, no doubt,'_ she realized, feeling a stab of betrayal at this subterfuge. "I have not seen her today, at least till this minute, and I was not aware she was anywhere near my home," she said. She saw the grisette hesitate, and this gave her the impetus to continue. "Mademoiselle, perhaps you do not trust me, but I have known Mademoiselle Thenardier since she was a little girl. Her mother knows me too. I do not know what she would say to a stranger showing up at their door to give bad news."

Before the grisette could say anything to this, more footsteps came from inside the apartment. "Musichetta, we need more bandages; I fear she may have cracked her ribs," a bespectacled young man called to her as he hurried down the stairs. He stopped short when he saw Fantine. "Good evening, Mademoiselle Fabre," he said politely.

Fantine nodded, guessing that this was the fellow known as Joly. "Good evening to you, Monsieur. I saw that Mademoiselle Thenardier was here. What happened to her?"

"She was beaten very badly. Somehow she came around and dragged herself a good way before Grantaire found her," Joly replied. He looked at Fantine keenly as if trying to decide what to do or say. "Mademoiselle, would you know how to help set a broken rib?"

The question almost made Fantine flinch even as she recalled her days working in the infirmary at Montreuil-sur-mer. "I can at least assist."

Joly nodded. "I will need you and Musichetta to help me." He grabbed his mistress' hand on seeing the reproving look she threw him. "We'll worry about those questions later."

Fantine followed the two young people into a large apartment, which was well furnished but cluttered with books, a few metal contraptions, and various articles of clothing. A collection of magnets was lined up at one side of the front room. In an adjoining room, Eponine was lying in bed, with the blankets drawn up to her chest to hide the state of her tattered clothing. She was whimpering and clutching at the sheets regardless of Courfeyrac's attempts to distract her with conversation.

Eponine started when she saw Fantine. "What are you doing here?"

"I was passing by," Fantine replied. She had to hold back a gasp of horror on seeing the livid bruises and gashes that covered Eponine's arms and midsection, as well as the caked blood all over her hair. "Who did this to you?"

Eponine paled at this question. "Why are you asking?"

' _She doesn't trust me anymore,'_ Fantine realized. "Because I know someone who might be able to help," she replied as she sat at the girl's bedside.

"Not your kind of help, Madame Fantine," Eponine said bitterly.

"I'm not leaving till your mother comes here for you," Fantine insisted.

Eponine sighed and shook her head. "Tell her to get Azelma and go. Tell her to tell Papa to follow if he wants." She looked to the ceiling and winced. "I should have guessed he was some agent, after I saw him at the quarry," she whispered.

"At the quarry where the Courgourde were?" Courfeyrac asked.

Eponine shrugged at this question. "I don't know what the police call him though."

The young men and Musichetta exchanged looks, just a moment before the door flew open to admit Mme. Thenardier and Azelma. Mme. Thenardier, who had been out of breath from running, now let out a wild cry as she hurried to Eponine's bedside. "Oh my poor darling! Who did this to you?"

Eponine tried not to cry out when her mother accidentally jostled her injured arm. "You and Azelma have to hide, Maman. He might come after you next."

"Who?" Mme. Thenardier asked, leaning in when Eponine pulled her closer to whisper something in her ear. The woman swore and jumped up after a moment. "I'm going to tell your father! No, I'll rip that man apart with my bare hands!"

"Maman, don't, he'll-" Eponine protested before crying out as she was wracked by another jolt of pain. "He's with the police, he knows his way around."

"I don't care!"Mme. Thenardier fumed.

Fantine caught Mme. Thenardier's arm. "You know the man then?" she asked in a level tone, hoping to calm her friend down.

"Know all of him, except his face!" Mme. Thenardier roared. "What other sort of man could go by a name as horrible as Claquesous?"


	21. Chapter 21: A Grip That Is Also Adrift

**Chapter 21: A Grip That Is Also Adrift**

It quickly became clear that Eponine's condition was too unstable for her to be moved, thus she would have to remain a while at the Rue Ferou. This worrisome state prompted Mme. Thenardier to prevail upon her husband to move their family to a more convenient location to allow her to personally oversee their child's recovery. Within a week the Thenardiers were installed in a small garret at the Rue Mesieres, near Mabeuf's former lodgings.

One afternoon, about a fortnight following the Thenardiers' move, Fantine went to visit them at their new home. When she arrived, Mme. Thenardier was on her way out. "Lisette, I brought some things for Eponine," she greeted as she held up a new green scarf she'd knitted for the girl.

Mme. Thenardier nodded stiffly. "We don't have need for such things."

Fantine gritted her teeth at this brusque reply. "Surely there must be something I can do to help you," she said. Even after all this time she could not shake the feeling that Claquesous had gone after Eponine for reasons other than her apparent connection to the group at the Musain. ' _Otherwise why would she have been at the Rue de Sevres?'_ she wondered.

Mme. Thenardier's eyes were hard as she met Fantine's wide-eyed gaze. "If you want to help me, then tell me who Claquesous is."

"I don't know what name he goes by as a police agent," Fantine confessed. "Doesn't he have other contacts who'd know better?"

"They don't even know his face," Mme. Thenardier huffed. "Eponine told me you know people who could help out."

"They could but they wouldn't," Fantine said. ' _Partly because I have not seen Inspector Perrot either since that day,'_ she thought. After that day, Inspector Perrot did not visit her at the Rue Plumet or ask for her to make any rendezvous at the church of Saint-Jacques or the Prefecture's headquarters. She was not sure whether to be relieved or perturbed at this lack of attention from the agent; had he finally decided that she was no longer of use to him? How long would it be till he would find cause to arrest either Victor or Cosette?

Nevertheless she knew better than to voice this out, particularly in Mme. Thenardier's silent and forbidding presence. "If I find anyone who knows better, I'll tell you," Fantine promised her friend. "That man can't stay hidden forever."

Mme. Thenardier did not say anything but she took the scarf as well as the other clothes that Fantine had brought. "I'll tell her you sent this. Now let me through," she said before pushing past Fantine and making her way in the general direction of the Rue Ferou.

' _Oh poor Lisette!'_ Fantine thought, but she knew better than to immediately go after her friend, or linger on and knock at the door to ask if Azelma was home. ' _Perhaps she'll talk more when Eponine gets better,'_ she decided as she ventured now towards the other shops in the area of the Odeon, hoping to find materials there for some new projects.

After making a few purchases there she doubled back towards the Rue Ferou, in the off chance of finding Mme. Thenardier in the area. As she approached Joly and Musichetta's apartment she noticed two people in lively conversation by an open window. One of them was Eponine, who was laughing as she tugged her new green scarf around her bandaged shoulders. The other was a tall young man with golden hair and a stern mien that suddenly brightened up when he chuckled at something Eponine said. ' _Does Lisette know about this?'_ Fantine wondered as she hurried past, taking care to keep out of sight of the open window. She was almost certain that this young man was a leader among the radical students. How long had Eponine been deliberately dallying with this sort of danger?

By the time Fantine returned to the Rue Plumet, she had made up her mind to confront Eponine about this matter in private. Yet all thoughts of this promptly fled her mind when she noticed Victor at the gate, talking to Bahorel and another friend. She quickened her pace till she was right in front of them. "Go home, boys, "she said, drawing herself up to her full height.

Bahorel tipped his hat to her. "Mademoiselle Fabre-"

"Don't think you can get out of this Bahorel," Fantine replied in a clipped tone. "I won't have you dragging my son into your revolutionary business."

Bahorel and his friend exchanged sheepish looks. "Mademoiselle, I can assure you we don't mean to cause harm to Victor or bring him to any calamity-" his friend began.

Bahorel shook his friend. "Courfeyrac, we have to go," he said in an undertone. He tipped his hat to Fantine again. "I am truly sorry, Mademoiselle Fabre," he added before steering his friend away and down the street.

Fantine watched them go before pushing the gate open and entering her yard. "Victor!" she called to the boy who was rushing into the house. "I need to talk to you."

Victor was pale with indignation when he turned to look at her. "We were just talking."

"About what?" Fantine retorted. "I know what they do, Victor. I don't want you involved in it."

Victor shook his head. "You can't stop me. Not now."

"It's dangerous!"

"You're not my mother!"

It was as if a thunderclap had sounded next to Fantine's ears. For a moment she stared at Victor before rushing forward and seizing his arm. "Why are you saying such things?"

"Because it's true," Victor shot back bitterly as he jerked away from her grip. "I'm Eponine and Azelma's little brother."

Fantine's jaw dropped. "Who told you?"

"I could  _see_  it. I even look like Eponine," Victor said. "I'm not an idiot."

"I never said you were!" Fantine cried. "Victor you don't understand, you were so little then-"

Victor looked at her accusingly. "You never would have told me though."

' _How could I ever do it?'_ Fantine wanted to say even as she saw once again that day when Mme. Thenardier had abandoned the boy at the apartment on the Estrapade. She blinked away that vision of the child's tearful face but she was only treated to the sight of Victor's back as he went to his room. ' _Please don't go, don't leave...'_ she begged silently as she followed him, only to have him slam the door before she could call to him. She stood in the hall for a long while, listening for any signs of him packing his belongings or worse, but she was only met by silence.

She went out to the back apartment to look for Jean Valjean, but found the place darkened. When she peered through the window she saw that his coat was gone, as was his habit whenever he had to conduct one of his long errands. ' _When will he be back?'_ she wondered silently as she sat at the small stoop of this lodge. Was there anyone else she could trust to mollify Victor and set his doubts to rest? How could she possibly explain the past to the boy without vilifying his blood relations?

"What if the girls remember too?" Fantine asked aloud as she went back into the house. Cosette and Eponine had been about eight, Azelma just over six years old. None of them had ever let on about what they recalled of those early days in Paris, but now Fantine was beginning to realize that silence was no guarantee of safety. She swiped away a tear as she imagined now Cosette confronting her about this story, or if not, about Tholomyes, the truth of their flight from Montreuil-sur-mer, and even this recent trouble with Inspector Perrot. ' _I have to keep quiet for a little longer, I must,'_ she decided.

As she sat down at her favourite chair to do some sewing, she caught sight of the day's newspaper near the mantelpiece. She picked it up and idly began going through the pages in hopes of finding some form of diversion. After a few minutes she found herself at the obituaries section, but before she could turn the page her eyes caught sight of a simple announcement, as befitting one who'd taken the veil or the Holy Orders. In the middle of this was a singular name:  _Sister Simplice_.

"No," Fantine whispered as she blinked, but the name was as clear as ever on the page. She hardly took in the words ' _died in the odor of sanctity at the age of seventy-six'_ as well as the date just a week prior. All that she could see was that nun's radiant face on that last night in Montreuil-sur-mer, when she'd uttered her first lie. ' _I never got to write her or say a proper goodbye,'_ she realized as she felt her eyes grow hot.

She jumped up as the front door swung open and Jean Valjean walked in, carrying a bundle of goods. She held out the newspaper to him. "Have you seen this already?"

"I did, before I left," Jean Valjean replied as he set down his burden. He sighed deeply as he wiped his hands on his trousers. "I said a prayer for her."

' _What would I say in a prayer for someone better than all of us?'_ Fantine asked herself but she bit back this thought. "I wish we'd known somehow. I wish we'd gotten to say goodbye," she said at last.

"We remember her, that is enough," Jean Valjean said as he went to her. For a moment it seemed as if his hand should rest on her arm but he hesitated and took a step back. "Is something wrong, Fantine?"

"Victor knows the truth," Fantine admitted despondently. "I caught him talking to Bahorel and one of his friends and told him not to do it, and then we had a row. He said I wasn't his mother, so what could I have said then?"

Jean Valjean looked down, clearly stricken to the core. "We should have told him. It shouldn't have happened this way."

"What would he have done with it? He cannot go back to the Thenardiers; Lisette doesn't want him, his father much less, and anyway they are in such a state over the girls now," Fantine said. "He can't stay with Bahorel and his friends, especially after what just happened to Eponine!"

"Are you certain those two things are connected?"Jean Valjean asked.

Fantine nodded. "She knows the leader of one of the student groups. I am sure that is one reason for that Claquesous, whoever he is, to go after her in that way. I don't know if Lisette knows of this."

For a long moment Jean Valjean was silent. "I will speak with Victor," he said more to himself than to Fantine. "What about Cosette?"

Fantine shrugged even as she looked upwards; she had not heard anything from Cosette's room. ' _Is she well?'_ she wondered as she went upstairs to check on the girl. She knocked thrice on her daughter's bedroom door. "Cosette?"

In a moment the door flew open. "Maman! You're home early," Cosette greeted breathlessly.

"My errands were easy. Your grandfather is downstairs too," Fantine said. She noticed that Cosette's hair was down, but appeared as if she'd been in the process of curling it. "What are you doing with those curling tongs?" she asked, pointing to the instrument on Cosette's dresser.

Cosette reddened for a moment. "Only a new style, Maman. I read it in  _Le Follet_  and I wanted to see if it suited me."

"Do you wish for me to help you?"

"I'm doing fine with it on my own."

Fantine nodded slowly, unsure what to make of this sudden turn of coquetry. "I'll be visiting Eponine again tomorrow. She looked much better today," she said. "Those friends of hers have treated her well."

"Of course Maman. Joly is a doctor, or almost a doctor. He's got a friend too, Combeferre, and he's also almost a doctor," Cosette prattled on.

"You know them too?" Fantine asked pointedly.

"Somewhat. I've seen them about, and Eponine has told me a little about them," Cosette replied stiffly. "Bahorel also mentioned them a time or two."

' _Or more,'_ Fantine couldn't help thinking. "Is Combeferre that slender one with golden hair?"

Cosette shook her head. "Why?"

"It's nothing," Fantine said, seeing the suspicion already in Cosette's eyes. "I was only wondering who told the Thenardiers that Eponine was injured."

Cosette shrugged. "They know so many people, so it wouldn't have been difficult to do. I meant the students and Musichetta-that's Joly's friend."

' _At least I've kept her away from speaking to them,'_ Fantine thought as she patted Cosette's arm. "I read in the papers today that Sister Simplice is gone. She's in heaven."

Cosette's jaw dropped. "Oh Maman! When?"

"Earlier this week," Fantine said. "I thought you'd want to know."

Cosette crossed herself. "She was always so kind. I wish I could have seen her again. What about Sister Perpetue? Where is she?"

"I do not know," Fantine admitted. For all she knew, Sister Perpetue may have already passed on too. "Please say a prayer for her tonight, darling."

"I will. I'll help you with dinner when I'm through with this," Cosette said, gesturing to her hair. "Maybe we should bake something to bring to Eponine tomorrow."

"That would be good," Fantine concurred before going downstairs, feeling somewhat better. ' _Maybe all will be better by morning,'_ she thought as she cast a glance towards Victor's room, where she could hear the soft murmur of conversation. She could always trust on better outcomes, for as long as she was never truly alone.

Indeed for the rest of the evening it seemed as if Fantine's hopes would come to fruition: Victor appeared for dinner looking calm and far less agitated than before, Cosette helped Fantine makea simple but sumptuous tasting dinner, and conversation flowed more easily than expected through their household. For the first time in a few days Fantine was finally able to go to sleep without lying awake for hours, reviewing all the things she should have said by daylight.

The next morning though she was awoken by Cosette's frantic knocking on her bedroom door. "Maman! We have to get dressed right away!" she greeted quickly when Fantine stepped out.

"Why, what is the matter?" Fantine asked, seeing that Cosette was clutching some freshly washed dresses in her arms.

Cosette glanced towards the stairway and the hullaballoo of frantic conversation from downstairs. "We have to go to Notre Dame today, Maman. Azelma is getting married to Verdier at ten o'clock!"


	22. Chapter 22: This Does Not Look Like a Wedding

**Chapter 22: This Does Not Look Quite Like a Wedding**

Even as Fantine hastened to dress and make her toilette she could not help but wonder how she could have missed such a development. ' _With one parent worrying over one girl, of course the other would do what he would with the second,'_ she told herself as she tied a thick sash around her pink day dress and threw on a beribboned bonnet. When she went to help Cosette get dressed, she saw that the girl was putting up her hair in a simple knot. "Don't you want to curl it with the tongs, like last night?" she asked.

Cosette shook her head. "There's no time, Maman."

"How did you ever find out about it?" Fantine asked. "Did they send an invitation?"

"Someone ran to tell Victor, saying that we'd want to know," Cosette replied as she pulled a thick mantle over her lavender dress.

' _That someone has a name certainly,'_ Fantine thought but before she could inquire further about this, Cosette had already dashed downstairs. She followed the girl to the front room, where Jean Valjean and Victor were already donning their overcoats and hats. "Surely the Thenardiers must be joking!" she couldn't help saying.

"I wish it was only a cruel jest," Jean Valjean said. His expression was grim as he gestured to the window, where they could clearly see the grey sky. "We'd better go by fiacre."

Fantine swallowed hard at this seemingly ill omen but she still managed to keep a straight face as she and her family stepped out of the house. As far as she knew, only she and Jean Valjean were in any position to speak with M. Thenardier, assuming that the latter was willing to listen. ' _Unless help can come from somewhere, please,'_ she prayed silently.

When they arrived at Notre Dame, the church grounds were quiet and strangely free of any well-wishers or even curious spectators. By now a light drizzle had begun to fall, forcing the four Fabres to run to the church vestibule. "I thought a wedding would be noisier," Victor remarked as they all ducked under the arched doorway.

"Perhaps we are at the wrong church?" Jean Valjean wondered.

"You aren't," Musichetta answered as she emerged from one of the side doors. The grisette was dressed more plainly than Fantine had ever seen her before; she only had on a gray gown trimmed with a bare modicum of lace, and her wavy hair was pinned back in a plain coiffure. Her deep eyes were bright with fury as she approached the Fabres. "I hope you aren't here to wish the happy couple well."

"I'm here to talk to Madame Thenardier, and Monsieur Thenardier too, maybe," Fantine replied before either of her children could say a word. "Where are they?"

"The wedding party hasn't arrived yet; they must still be at the mayor's office." Musichetta shook her head. "Eponine is with them, even if she still hasn't entirely recovered."

It was all that Fantine could do not to cringe at these words, especially when she remembered the extent of Eponine's injuries at the hands of Claquesous. Before she could say anything she heard voices from within the cathedral, rather near where Musichetta was standing. "It's bad manners to show up uninvited at a wedding," Fantine finally said.

"They need a congregation," Musichetta replied.

At that moment Fantine felt Jean Valjean's hand on her arm. "Shouldn't have any objections to the wedding been voiced out weeks ago when the banns were posted?" he asked in an undertone.

"No one thought that the wedding would be today," Fantine pointed out.

Jean Valjean nodded tersely. "If they are at the mayor's office, then the marriage is already listed in the civil register."

"But it wouldn't be respectable without going to the church..." Fantine trailed off. She turned to see Musichetta talking with Cosette and Victor furtively, and only then it dawned on her that there was a particular purpose for this grisette and her friends to be present at the ceremony. "Mademoiselle, you do not mean to-" she began as she caught Musichetta's gaze.

"If you're successful then we will not have to," Musichetta replied. Her eyes widened as she stood on tiptoe. "Finally they're here."

Everyone turned to see two carriages entering the square in front of the cathedral. These coaches seemed to have been freshly painted and hastily bedecked with garlands of green, white, and blue ribbons. After a few moments Fantine recognized the Thenardiers in the first carriage; the older Thenardiers were wearing clean but borrowed clothes, while Eponine was clad in the same puce dress that she had altered so many weeks ago. Azelma's face was hidden by a lace veil, but it was obvious from her bowed head that she was weeping.

"You need to find seats in the church," Fantine said to Jean Valjean, Cosette and Victor. "I'll follow after I've spoken with the Thenardiers."

"But Maman-" Cosettte began.

"They mustn't see you," Fantine said more firmly. ' _I can't have her seeing this scene either,'_ she thought as she watched Jean Valjean usher the two youngsters into the cathedral. There was no way she could trust M. Thenardier to keep a civil tongue in his head, even on such an occasion.

As soon as the first carriage came to a halt, Azelma practically leapt out and dashed up the cathedral steps. "Madame Fantine, please help me!" she begged as she flung herself into Fantine's arms. "Tell my parents that I can't marry him!"

"You silly girl!" M. Thenardier barked at his daughter as he alighted from the carriage. "First that ruckus at the mayor's office and now here! When will you behave yourself?"

Fantine gritted her teeth as she grabbed Azelma's arms to keep her from slipping to the floor. "Monsieur Thenardier, she cannot be married like this. Can't you see what it will do to her?" she pleaded.

"She's only in hysterics, that silly!" M. Thenardier said. "After all the trouble, getting a church, finding a priest, and this party-"

"Papa, I don't want it!" Azelma howled. "Please don't make me go in there!"

"Get to your feet now," M. Thenardier ordered as he stepped closer.

Fantine shook her head as she stepped forward so that she was between Azelma and her father. "Please don't do this. For her sake," she insisted. She looked about for the two other Thenardiers but only saw Mme. Thenardier half-dragging her elder daughter into the church in spite of the girl's attempts to get to her sister. This concerted effort was not lost on Musichetta, who then hitched up her skirts and raced into the doorway after the Thenardier women.

By this time the second carriage was in the churchyard, and a valet had already stepped out in order to help its chief occupant alight. ' _That must be Monsieur Verdier,'_ Fantine thought, more so when she saw the richly dressed gentleman exiting the carriage and walking up to the cathedral. Although he was not particularly advanced in years, he still seemed strikingly aged and too far above the girl clinging to Fantine's arms. "Monsieur, have a little pity," Fantine said to him.

Verdier stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of Azelma clinging to Fantine's back. "What is this?" he asked M. Thenardier.

"She's only having the nerves," M. Thenardier said, glowering at his daughter.

The bridegroom gritted his teeth as he approached Azelma and Fantine. "Mademoiselle Thenard, I do not mean you any harm," he said gently.

Azelma shook her head. "Please, don't."

"Come now, your father told you it's for the best, and I gave my word that I will not hurt you," Verdier cajoled. "Let's not waste any time."

Fantine shook her head. "She won't go with you-" she began only to be cut off by Azelma's shriek as M. Thenardier as well as Verdier's valet suddenly seized her by her arms and dragged her towards the church door.

"No!" Fantine shouted, stepping forward only to be stopped by Verdier's grabbing her shoulder. "Let go of me!"

Verdier obliged but only when Azelma was inside the church. "She already agreed back at the magistrate's office," he told Fantine. "We have to go through with it now here at the church."

"Monsieur don't you understand-" Fantine cried but Verdier had already turned on his heel and was making his way to the cathedral. ' _How could he possibly stand to do it?'_ she thought as she dashed through the church nave, looking about frantically for Mme. Thenardier in hopes of making a last-ditch effort. To her shock she saw a group of people gathered near the church's altar, standing right between Azelma and her parents. Victor, Cosette, Musichetta, Joly, and Bahorel were in this crowd, as well as some others who Fantine couldn't name, such as the blond student who'd been chatting with Eponine at the Rue Ferou. All of them were listening to Courfeyrac haranguing the priest who would have officiated the ceremony.

"Aside from Monsieur Verdier's misrepresentation of his present resources, there is still the fact that Mademoiselle Azelma Thenardier's full and willing consent to this marriage cannot be ascertained," Courfeyrac said, his tone firm but still energetic. "She has not shown any sign of assent or enthusiasm about the marriage, and in fact has appeared to be outright reluctant to enter this contract."

"It is only a case of nerves, Monsieur de Courfeyrac," M. Thenardier protested. "What girl would not be distressed at leaving her family?"

The priest motioned for both men to be silent. "Did Mademoiselle Thenardier affix her signature to the marriage documents at the municipal office?" he asked gravely.

"Of course she did!" M. Thenardier sputtered.

"Are there any witnesses here who were also present at the signing?" the priest asked, looking from Azelma to her parents, and lastly at Verdier, who'd run up to his place at the end of the aisle. "Is there anyone here who could attest to the proceedings?" he added more pointedly.

"I s'pose I could," Eponine replied, her voice raspy but still clear in that shocked company. She stepped out from behind a pew, her slight hesitation belying the injuries she was still recuperating from, and stood at her sister's side. "Azelma wouldn't have signed the papers if the pen hadn't been put in her hands and if she hadn't been told to."

Mme. Thenardier gasped, bringing one large hand to her mouth. "Eponine! What are you saying?"

The girl shook her head. "I'm sorry Maman. It wouldn't have stood anyway on paper; we're not really Thenards, and I tried to tell you about what Monsieur Verdier also-"

"Not another word, girl!" M. Thenardier warned. He took a step forward, but was promptly blocked by Musichetta and Joly. "What's the matter with you? Don't you want to let your sister have a good life?"

"She cannot if she goes with him," Eponine retorted, looking towards the thwarted bridegroom. "He's already in debt, how can he get married in that sort of state?"

M. Thenardier made another effort but this time was stopped by the priest. "I'm sorry but I cannot officiate this sacrament when there is a question of falsehood," he said gravely. "Unless this is cleared up, the marriage will be null and void."

Azelma appeared as if she would swoon with relief even as Victor and Bahorel were quite unable to hold back their cheers. Mme. Thenardier let out a sound akin to a sob but promptly trained her gaze on the floor when her husband glared at her. As for Verdier, he cleared his throat as if to begin making a rebuttal but suddenly he turned to where his valet was frantically running up the aisle. "What is the matter?" he asked only to blanch when he saw that his servant was not alone.

"I would hate to accost a man on his wedding day, but since the proceedings have been cancelled, this can take precedence," a tall lean man greeted coolly as he stood in the middle of the aisle. This newcomer was clad in a greatcoat in the style of those worn by officers of the Prefecture. He had taken off his hat, allowing the congregation to see his graying hair and voluminous sideburns.

The sight of this visage made Fantine's blood run cold. ' _It cannot be him!'_ she told herself but she was certain that there was no other man in France who had a lean face that was stern and predatory all at once. She looked to Jean Valjean, who had bowed his head and donned his hat to provide further cover. ' _One look here, he's as good as gone,_ ' she realized.

The priest glared at the police agent. "Monsieur, you may not arrest a man in a church."

"We are only inviting him to accompany us for some questioning," Javert said. He nodded to Verdier. "Monsieur, if you please."

Verdier shook his head. "You cannot prove anything."

"I would advise against arguing the point-" Javert began only to be interrupted by a sudden cry from where Verdier's valet had drawn a gun and pointed it at a policeman trying to restrain him. "What is the meaning of this?" he shouted over the din of churchgoers frantically fleeing the scene. "Handcuff this man and his employer!"

' _It's either we go now or he'll catch us for thinking we're with revolutionaries too!'_ Fantine thought as she looked to where Jean Valjean was trying to reach Victor and Cosette in the middle of what was becoming a scuffle in front of the altar. She managed to reach Victor first and pull him away. "We have to leave now!"

"Let me go!" Victor shouted, gesturing frantically to where Eponine was still trying to help Azelma reach their mother, who was being led off by M. Thenardier.

Eponine looked around sharply on hearing Victor's voice. "Go with them! We'll be fine here!" she yelled, looking at Victor and then at Fantine.

"Eponine!" Cosette shouted, only to have her friend shove her away. "What—"

"Go," Eponine whispered. She looked towards a young man who had halted right at the church exit, where safety lay in the sacristy and the back exits. "Enjolras, I'm sorry," she mouthed.

' _So that is his name,'_ Fantine realized even as she saw this student nod reluctantly to Eponine before hurrying to rush the rest of his friends to safety. She knew better than to lead her own family in this direction so she motioned for them to follow her the other way, towards a shadowed row of confessionals. From here they hurried out unnoticed towards one of the cathedral's side doors and out into the churchyard. The rain was falling now in sheets but the four Fabres ran till they reached a half-rotted gate that led out into a side alley, which wound and twisted until opening out near the Pont Saint-Michel.

"We should have brought Eponine and Azelma with us!" Victor muttered despondently as he watched Cosette hailing a fiacre.

' _Impossible,'_ Fantine realized, even as she recalled the girls' terrified faces as well as Mme. Thenardier's resigned expression. There was no chance that they would leave each other so exposed to M. Thenardier's wrath. "We'll find them soon."

"Hopefully," Jean Valjean said as he ushered them into the carriage that Cosette had managed to flag down. He wrung out his hat and rubbed his fingers. "As for us, we have to take precautions."

Fantine nodded. "Such as?"

"Remove. We cannot stay at the Rue Plumet any longer."

A look of horror spread over Cosette's face for a moment before she shivered and pulled her own coat more tightly around her. "To where, Grandfather?"

"Not too far away. There are other apartments in Paris," Jean Valjean said thoughtfully as the fiacre rattled slowly back to the Latin Quartier.


	23. Chapter 23: The Fruits of Eavesdropping

**Chapter 23: The Fruits of Eavesdropping**

The move from the idyll of the Rue Plumet to the decidedly more cramped area of the Rue del'Homme Arme was more of a discomfort to Fantine than a source of outright alarm. ' _A house with only a walk that barely passes for a courtyard, four tiny rooms to do all living in, and an ugly street,'_ she couldn't help thinking on her family's fifth morning in these accommodations. In fact she found housekeeping almost impossible in this location, owing to the fact that it was all too easy to jostle or disturb someone from just moving about. The only time she could trust to get any work done was in the earliest hours, when her children were still sleeping in and Jean Valjean was at his prayers. Yet even as she attempted to do some mending, she marvelled at the relative silence of this area. Perhaps this was what they would need for a little while, until the police would give up on using her as an informant.

Yet before Fantine could bask too long in this marvellous idea, the recollection of Javert at Notre Dame sent a shudder down her spine. ' _He may not have gone after us, but he may still know who we are,'_ she realized. Would she have to seek Inspector Perrot's protection again, or extend some goodwill gesture to Javert in the slightest hope that he would leave her family alone? Even so how long would such a peace last? ' _A chance better than none at all,'_ she decided at last as she set her sewing aside and went to make her toilette. She would have to make a visit to the Prefecture, if only to be cordial and polite to Perrot, and then make a bargain if necessary.

As she was unlocking the front door, she caught sight of Jean Valjean leaving the room he now shared with Victor. "I have to make a visit today," she told him.

Jean Valjean looked at her morosely. "Must we still resort to that?"

"I do not want the Inspector to find us or give us trouble," Fantine replied. "If he recognizes either of us, there is only one thing he will do."

"You believe that Perrot will protect us from that calamity?" Jean Valjean asked.

"It is our only chance," Fantine said. ' _Of course we could leave Paris, but Cosette and Victor would never forgive me for it,'_ she thought.

Jean Valjean nodded slowly, as if divining her thoughts. "If it is necessary, I will leave everything with you and the children, and seek refuge myself outside Paris. It may be easier to hide that way."

For a moment Fantine was left speechless at this plan. "Don't say such a thing, Monsieur. Please."

"That may be best," he pointed out.

"Victor needs you. Cosette will be heartbroken if you go too; you're the closest thing to a father she's ever had," she insisted. ' _I will not be able to bear it either,'_ she almost said but she bit her tongue. "A woman alone with two children, even if they are almost grown up, what will the neighbours say to that? I would just as soon leave Paris myself to avoid the scandal," she reminded him.

Jean Valjean sighed ruefully at this point. "It is strange that we should seek protection from the police while trying to remain out of their notice."

"It is not the worst we've done," Fantine said, now making an attempt to be cheery. "Perhaps if Victor wishes, you can go with him to see Monsieur Mabeuf for more lessons. It would do you all some good."

"We may have to find some other arrangement for his studies since the Austerlitz is so far from here," Jean Valjean noted.

"Maybe you can meet someplace-" Fantine began before a light knock sounded on the front door, nearly making her jump. She clutched at the back of a nearby chair as she listened for yet another sound that could possibly signal trouble. "Who are you?"

"It's me," a tired, raspy voice replied. A moment later the front door swung open to reveal Eponine Thenardier. She was wearing the same green dress that Cosette had given her several weeks ago, only now that it was patched at the elbows and a little ragged at the hems. She only had a thin cape and an old bonnet to protect her against the still crisp spring breeze. Yet what was more startling was that she had apparently passed through several years in the span of less than a week. All girlish gaiety had vanished from her haggard face and her hands seemed to have abandoned fidgeting. However there was still that same fierce resolve in her bright eyes; if anything it was more evident than ever.

For a moment Fantine was too startled to speak. "It's good to see you. How did you find this address?" she finally managed to say.

"I asked around a little bit," Eponine replied with a slight shrug.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Jean Valjean asked concernedly.

Eponine paused and then shook her head, but all the same Jean Valjean excused himself to start making some coffee. The girl smiled when she saw Victor emerging from his room. "I s'pose you thought you'd never see me again?"

Victor grinned as he shook his head. "They're right when they say you know your way about. Should I wake Cosette?"

"Yes. I need to speak with her," Eponine replied. "And I have something for you too," she added, bringing a folded sheet of paper out from her skirt pocket.

"Victor-" Fantine warned but it was too late to stop him from taking the missive from their guest. ' _Does this mean he'll never heed me again?'_ she wondered as she crossed the room to check on the woodstove, now finding herself unable to look at Victor and Eponine. How did she ever come to the idea that Victor would not figure out the truth?

She almost jumped when she felt Eponine's hand on her arm. "Madame Fantine, everyone's been worried," Eponine said. "Monsieur Bahorel of course, and the rest of his friends. They only want to know that Victor is well."

"That should be enough for them," Fantine said, trying to mask the vitriol in her voice. She took a deep breath before looking at Eponine again. "Where are you and your family staying now?"

"At the Faubourg du Temple. Papa has friends there," Eponine replied stiffly. "I know what you're about to ask, Madame Fantine. It's not a good place at all, but we'll manage to leave it soon, you'll see."

"After what happened at Notre Dame, I was worrying that you, your sister, and your mother would be in a bad way," Fantine admitted.

Eponine laughed humourlessly as she crossed her arms. "That Monsieur Verdier left Paris as soon as the police let him go. They only wanted to see his papers to make sure he wasn't robbing anyone, but he was spooked well and good. He only left without my sister though, too bad for him. Anyway we're not scared of gendarmes, and we know how to run from them."

' _I was thinking about your father,'_ Fantine almost said. "Your wounds though-"

"I wouldn't have come all the way here if I was still hurting all over," Eponine retorted over the sound of a door opening. She managed an apologetic smile when she saw Cosette there, still blinking away sleep from her eyes. "I s'pose I should wait for you to have breakfast first?"

"That can wait, Ponine," Cosette said amiably before taking a deep breath, relishing the smell of coffee in the air. "We'll wait for Grandfather to call us for that, we can talk in the meantime."

"I s'pose I'd like that," Eponine said before following Cosette back into her room.

Fantine sighed deeply at the sound of the door closing and sat down to resume her mending. After a few moments she found herself unable to stay still, and so she tiptoed over to the closed door. ' _I'll only listen for a minute, nothing more,'_ she told herself as she silently pressed her ear to the keyhole, all the while keeping a lookout in case Jean Valjean or Victor would return to the anteroom.

"I can only imagine how he might be, suddenly not having word of where we all went. All that for five days!," Cosette's voice said. "How did you manage to find him?"

"He found us. Apparently he still feels that he owes something to Papa, something to do with Waterloo," Eponine replied. "He couldn't do much, you could see, but I told him I'd help him anyway since he was in such a sad way. You must remember this place: 16 Rue de la Verrerie. Monsieur Courfeyrac is there and he's always helpful. I s'pose it will do till you find some new way to manage."

' _Who could Cosette possibly write to?'_ Fantine wondered. Was Cosette also asking Victor to also deliver messages of her own? This unsettling thought made Fantine press her ear even more tightly to the door, regardless of the crick she felt in her neck from such an awkward position.

Behind the door the conversation continued. "So what did your father do when he found out what you were about?" Cosette inquired.

"I s'pose you can already guess: he yelled about everything and called me loads of awful things. Maman and Azelma too. You know he'd never thrash us," Eponine replied nonchalantly. "He said that he'd expire from the embarrassment of that mess of a wedding, and we'd have to save his life by removing to a neighbourhood where no one knows us."

Cosette was barely able to hold back a giggle. "But your Maman-"

"She's been sick since last night. The faubourg is terrible for her."

"Combeferre and Joly should see her."

"I would bring them over straightaway if Papa would only allow it," Eponine sighed. "We had it all planned, you know, whether Verdier would insist on marrying my sister or not. Zelma and I were supposed to hide for a little bit once we could get away."

"Were you supposed to run off with Monsieur Enjolras?" Cosette asked teasingly.

"Oh no. He and Monsieur Feuilly were the ones who found the place though," Eponine explained in a more mortified tone. "He's not the sort of man though who fancies running away."

At that moment Fantine heard something like a chair scraping near the door, prompting her to immediately return to her seat. Before she could pick up her sewing again she saw Cosette and Eponine emerging from the room. "Aren't you going to stay for breakfast?" she asked Eponine when she saw the girl pick up her cape and her hat.

"I still have errands. Thank you anyway Madame Fantine," Eponine said in a clipped tone as she tied her cape. "I'll see you soon, Cosette. Tell your grandfather that I said good day to him too."

Fantine shook her head before walking out after Eponine. She managed to quicken her steps so as to catch the girl before she exited the yard. "You did not tell me that your mother was ill," the older woman said bluntly.

"You've already helped enough, Madame Fantine," Eponine replied, now sounding both weary and cross as she tried to reach the gate. "I don't s'pose you should do much more for us."

' _I'll never get her to see how sorry I am for all of this,'_ Fantine realized as she bit the inside of her cheek. "Have your parents ever met that young man, Enjolras? I mean outside of what happened at Notre Dame?" she asked.

Eponine stopped in her tracks. "Why are you asking?"

"I will not give him up to the police. You have my word," Fantine said.

The girl nodded slowly. "I s'pose that's all?"

"You have to talk to him, Eponine," Fantine pleaded. "You're very young, and he's not much older than you. Don't you know what danger you're getting into if there will be barricades again?"

"I'm not going to stop him. It's not for me to do so," Eponine said adamantly.

"People will die!"

"They already do every day, whether it's a king or someone else on top of things."

Fantine shook her head. "Please don't do this. Not even for him..." she began till she saw Eponine's brow furrow. Unlike Cosette, whose face seemed born for joy and laughter, Eponine was not the sort of woman who had love-light shining from her eyes. "I know he means a lot to you," she tried again.

"Maybe he's not the only thing either," Eponine replied tersely.

"What about your parents and your sister?" Fantine demanded. "Haven't you thought what this will do to your mother especially?"

A pained look crossed Eponine's face for a moment but she still raised her chin to look at Fantine. "I s'pose by the time she knows, she will either be better, or it will be too late to do much about it. Zelma will be just fine, I'm sure of it."

"Eponine-" Fantine protested but at that moment Eponine took the opportunity to slip towards the gate and dash off down the street. Try as she may, Fantine could not catch up before Eponine disappeared around the corner of the Rue del'Homme Arme. ' _She's not as silly as I was with Felix, so why is she doing this?'_ she wondered with dismay as she continued walking, but now with the intent of catching a fiacre.

When she arrived at the Prefecture, she found the place in a state of confusion with clerks and agents running from place to place. "Excuse me Monsieur, have you seen Inspector Perrot?" she asked the first messenger she found in the building's foyer.

The courier, a boy not much older than Victor, shook his head fearfully. "Maybe he's at the meeting upstairs," he said before scurrying off into an office.

' _Has there been some upset lately?'_ Fantine thought as she searched about for someone to help her. Ever since she and her family had taken refuge at the Rue del'Homme Arme, she'd been quite unable to keep up with the latest news. As she walked through a narrow corridor she heard two raised voices from a tiny corner office. Before quite thinking of it, she pressed herself into a narrow alcove as the voices grew louder.

"Are you absolutely certain of it? Without evidence we cannot do anything," Javert's irritated voice said. "Besides, a cathedral is no place to make an arrest."

"It's a wasted opportunity. You would have had more than one fish in the bag," a deep but lilting voice replied. "Didn't you know who the bride was?"

"She was unknown to me."

"The family has connections to Patron-Minette."

Javert made a sound that was something like a growl. "That is too circumstantial."

"All I'm saying is that I need more people to keep watch. The old woman is on to me, I know it," the second voice said.

' _Old woman? Surely he cannot mean Lisette!'_ Fantine thought. She craned her neck to get a look at the man who Javert was talking to, and found herself surveying a tall, hulking figure with broad shoulders. This stranger was not dressed in the uniform of the Prefecture's agents, but he was clad in a smock and a vest akin to the attire of some of the workers at the docks. Before she could study him further he turned around, forcing her to retreat into the alcove before she could be spotted. ' _If that is Claquesous, I'd just as sooner be arrested by Javert,'_ she decided as she waited for them to go into another room before continuing her search for Perrot.


	24. Chapter 24: Kindness to a Fault

**Chapter 24: Kindness to a Fault**

Despite all of Fantine's efforts it took her still a few more days till she was able to secure an audience with Inspector Perrot in his office. "I had expected you would bring more actual intelligence instead of wasting my time with a social call," the officer said when Fantine had finished her account of what had transpired at Notre Dame as well as some more trivial inquiries. "In fact not even that address at the Rue de la Verrerie is new to my knowledge. That quarter is always under watch. You have given me the Rue Ferou before but there is nothing to be found there or at least let out so easily."

"They are quick," Fantine replied, putting her hands in her lap. The office was in a bright corner of the building, but she still could not shake the feeling that shadows were creeping up and watching from the eaves. "I am only doing my best," she added when she saw the inspector's eyes narrow.

"These times call for more, Madame Fabre," Perrot said. "Half-heartedness will not do."

"I am not half-hearted," Fantine insisted. "Haven't I done everything you've told me to do over these past few months?"

"You must ascertain your family's loyalties," Perrot continued. "Your son, your daughter, and even your father. Bring your son away from his friends, watch who your daughter communicates with. Speaking of your father, where does he stand?"

"He's with the National Guard," Fantine replied quickly, feeling a frisson of panic at this reference to Jean Valjean. "If they call for him, he will come."

"That is good," Perrot said. "Those who will uphold law and order can be assured of protection should this matter spiral into violence again. You will have nothing to fear."

Fantine nodded quickly. "What is going to happen?"

"It is nothing you should concern yourself with," Perrot said. "Take care of your family. I will call on you soon, when I need you."

Fantine held back a sigh as she got to her feet. "I thank you for your time, Monsieur."

"The gratitude should come from me, Madame," Perrot said before he took her hand and kissed it. "We'll meet again soon."

It was all that Fantine could do to smile and walk out slowly from the office. As soon as she was out in the corridor she quickened her pace and quitted the Prefecture headquarters in less than a minute. Her heart pounded hard in her chest as she looked around the street, fearful that Javert would catch her in the vicinity. After a few moments she stood up straight and took a few deep breaths before heading in the general direction of the Faubourg du Temple. It occurred to her at some point that it would be more expeditious to inquire at the Rue de la Verrerie, especially if Courfeyrac was truly as friendly as he seemed to be, but Fantine quickly dismissed the idea. ' _There may be new trouble afoot there,'_ she decided, remembering Perrot's words.

The neighbourhood of the Faubourg du Temple was ancient, or so it seemed to Fantine as she wandered through the streets surrounding the famous second-hand clothes market. ' _The houses here might be older than Monsieur Valjean,'_ she mused as she looked between these grand edifices for any sign of a humbler dwelling. She shook her head on seeing how many of the manors were apparently deserted, or devoid of any signs of life apart from dozing gatekeepers and porters. This empty opulence made her uneasy and she quickened her steps, such that she almost missed the sight of a waifish figure pulling at the handle of a rusty carriage gate.

Before Fantine could call out, the girl at the gate turned around and saw her. "Madame Fantine! How did you find us?" Azelma shouted, nearly dropping the half loaf of black bread she had been carrying. "Ponine didn't give you our address!"

"She only told me that you were in this faubourg. That is enough," Fantine said as she looked the younger Thenardier girl over. To her surprise, Azelma appeared a little less careworn than Eponine. Her raven hair was in a single messy braid and she had thin knitted gloves over her hands. ' _She still hasn't been eating much though,'_ she noted on seeing how her dress practically hung off her shoulders. "Are you staying in this house?"

Azelma nodded. "Don't tell anyone though. The police might make us clear out even if we share this place only with the rats. We can't leave till Maman gets better."

Fantine suppressed a shudder. "Where is she?"

Azelma gestured to an upstairs window in the house. "I drew some water for her; there's a well in the yard here, but she wouldn't have it. So I took what we had to try to get some bread in case she would want it instead."

"Oh you poor girl," Fantine whispered, realizing now what might be under Azelma's gloves. She helped Azelma open the gate and then followed her to the decrepit house in the middle of the yard. Almost all the windows were shattered and the front door was on the brink of falling off its hinges. Some parts of the roof were missing, making Fantine wonder what sort of disaster could have caused this till she realized that the holes were in a regular pattern. "Who did that?"

"Thieves try to sell the shingles," Azelma replied. "Papa told Ponine to try to get some yesterday but Maman wouldn't let her climb up there."

' _How do they manage to sleep at night?'_ Fantine thought with dismay as she and Azelma entered a large hall strewn with torn draperies. The air was thick with the reek of mold and cat droppings, making Fantine's stomach twist uncomfortably as she followed Azelma up a creaky stairway towards a long corridor lined with doors. "Is your father home?"

Azelma shook her head. "He's out on business, that's what he said last night," she said as she pushed on a door. There was a bed in the middle of this room, stripped bare for everything except an old quilt and a heap of blankets. Azelma approached the bed and sat at the edge. "Maman, wake up!" she called.

The blanket covered lump stirred. "Is that you, my treasure? Is Eponine with you?"

"No, but Madame Fantine is here. I thought she might help. I got us some bread too," Azelma replied, breaking off a piece. "Maman, don't you want it?"

"My head hurts too much." Mme. Thenardier groaned.

Fantine took a deep breath before tiptoeing to the bedside. "Lisette, she's only trying to help," she said as she grasped Mme. Thenardier's arm. To her shock the older woman's skin felt dry and hot, even if she was shivering under the covers. Mme. Thenardier's ruddiness had been overtaken by a pallor that made the hollows in her cheeks seem deeper and her lips more chapped and bitten. "You don't need bread, but a hospital!" Fantine exclaimed.

Mme. Thenardier shook her head. "Where is Nicolas?"

It took Fantine a moment to recall that this was M. Thenardier's given name. "He'll be back soon," she replied, willing her voice to stay steady through the lie.

"He would say so," Mme. Thenardier whispered. Her eyes were bright and glazed as one trembling hand closed around Fantine's arm. "He used to say such fine things, that dear man. Like when we were at the inn. Did you know we used to dance whenever there would be a fiddler passing through?"

Fantine shook her head as she met Azelma's worried eyes. What could they possibly do with such delirium? "Where is your sister?" she mouthed.

"Gone to look for help," Azelma said in a low voice.

In the meantime Mme. Thenardier's grip tightened on Fantine's arm. "That was long ago. Did you know he now thinks I'm ugly?" the sick woman asked huskily. She drew in a painful breath and coughed. "I always see him look away."

"Please Lisette, you must rest," Fantine entreated. "If not, then eat or drink."

"Didn't you say I needed a hospital more?" Mme. Thenardier asked, loosening her grip. She looked to Azelma. "How glad am I that you're not yet married."

"If I was married, you wouldn't be here," Azelma countered. "I'd have brought you with me so you wouldn't be ill."

"And what of your Papa?" Mme. Thenardier asked. "Besides that man wouldn't have allowed it. You'd still be on your honeymoon now though-"

"Oh Maman, don't mention it!" Azelma cried.

Fantine managed to get her handkerchief, which she then dipped in some water pooling in a bowl at the corner of the room. She cautiously placed the wet cloth on Mme. Thenardier's brow. "If you and Azelma wait a little, I'll get a fiacre. You have to come home with me, even for a few days, or go someplace else," she said to her friend.

"How easy is it for you to say that!" Mme. Thenardier sighed. "You have a good house because you've never been in trouble. The  _cognes_  look at you and say, 'there is a respectable, pretty woman', and tip their hats to you and your girl. Not to me and mine."

Fantine had to look away then, if only not to allow Mme. Thenardier to catch her distressed expression. ' _If only she knew,'_ she thought as she clasped Mme. Thenardier's arm. "Please, you have to come with me. I promise, I'll take care of you."

"Ask Nicolas first," Mme. Thenardier insisted. "He won't like my going off without his saying so."

"He has to understand this," Fantine pleaded. "Can't he see you're not going to get better here?"

Suddenly Azelma motioned for Fantine to be quiet. "Someone's coming!" she hissed. She breathed a sigh of relief after a few seconds. "It's Ponine! She's brought someone with her."

Fantine stood up at the moment Eponine threw the door open. "I'm here to bring her away," Fantine told the girl. "She's too ill to stay here."

"That's exactly what I mean to do too, this very minute," Eponine said resolutely. "I've only been waiting for Papa to get away long enough," she added, looking to her sister.

Azelma shook her head. "What's Papa going to say?"

"I s'pose it doesn't matter," Eponine murmured. She glanced over her shoulder at her companion, a kindly looking young man with dark hair and spectacles. "I'm sorry Combeferre. I would have sent for you or Joly sooner if Papa would have let me do it."

"Better now than never. We may still be able to do something," Combeferre said as he went to Mme. Thenardier's bedside. "Madame, I know a little of medicine. If you will allow me to help you-"

"No. No more," Mme. Thenardier said.

"Your daughters are anxious to see you better," Combeferre replied more firmly. "For them, Madame?"

Mme. Thenardier looked at him steadily as she took some shallower breaths. "The best I can do for them is tell them to leave. They're fine girls, they shouldn't be here."

"Not without you, Maman," Eponine cut in. She turned at the sound of running footsteps headed towards the room. "Enjolras? Courfeyrac? What about-"

Enjolras and Courfeyrac quickly shut the door behind them. "We have to leave right away. There are gendarmes searching the area and entering every abandoned house," Enjolras said. He paused when he caught sight of Fantine. "This is a surprise, Citizenness Fabre."

"I can assure you, Monsieur that I have nothing to do with this," Fantine said, straightening up.

Courfeyrac gave her a pained smile. "Mademoiselle, the leader of the search party is Inspector Perrot."

At these words Fantine nearly sank back down on the bed. ' _At least it isn't Javert,'_ she couldn't help thinking at least till Mme. Thenardier's groaning drew her out of her reverie. She saw that Enjolras and Combeferre had somehow managed to manuever Mme. Thenardier into a half-sitting position that would allow her to move off the bed. "Isn't there a back way? All these fine houses usually have one," she pointed out.

"Not necessarily in the Marais," Courfeyrac replied. "I should know."

"What—" Azelma asked before noticing the knowing looks that Enjolras, Combeferre, and even Eponine were exchanging. "You should tell us that story once we escape this house, Monsieur," she said.

"That leaves the kitchen door then. Oh why couldn't it be night in a minute?" Eponine whispered through gritted teeth as she searched in a corner for a large shawl, which she then threw around her mother's shoulders and knotted at her breast for good measure. "I'll go ahead and throw the doors open so we can have an easier time of it. If you hear me knock twice, then don't follow," she said.

"I can talk to Inspector Perrot to give us time or leave us alone," Fantine offered.

"That will not be necessary," Enjolras said before helping Combeferre pull Mme. Thenardier to her feet.

Fantine gaped for a moment at this feat of strength; Mme. Thenardier was taller than these two young men and probably just as heavy even in her wasted state. She swallowed hard before going to where Azelma and Courfeyrac were quickly gathering up some belongings. "Where do you mean to go?" she asked in an undertone as soon as they were done wrapping everything in several large handkerchiefs.

"Someplace. Ponine knows," Azelma said.

Courfeyrac smiled confidently at Fantine. "She saw to everything first."

' _He probably doesn't know that I know about Eponine wanting a place for her and Azelma to hide,'_ Fantine realized. "And you never asked?" she inquired, directing this to Azelma.

Before Azelma could answer, a shriek came from downstairs. "Someone's found Ponine!" the girl cried, dropping the bundle she was carrying.

"Azelma, don't!" Fantine warned but in the blink of an eye Azelma and Courfeyrac had quit the room. She followed them towards a back stairway. Here, Mme. Thenardier was crouched on the landing, gasping for breath as she leaned heavily on her younger daughter. "What happened?" Fantine asked. "Where are the others?"

Azelma shook her head. "Maman told them to help Ponine."

Fantine cringed at the sound of a body hitting the floor. ' _Please don't let anyone be dead,'_ she prayed as she took a cautious step down, only to be met by Combeferre hurrying up the stairs. "That was only a burglar, but the police search party will be here in a minute," he informed the women.

Mme. Thenardier nodded slowly. "Don't you dare let my girls out of your sight," she said to Combeferre.

Before Fantine could reach for Mme. Thenardier again, the older woman heaved herself forward, caught Azelma by her waist and shoved the girl down the stairs, towards Combeferre. Azelma screamed in panic even as the medical student managed to catch her. "Maman!"

"Go now!" Mme. Thenardier wheezed.

"You heard her! We'll make our way out soon!" Fantine snapped at the young people as she sat by Mme. Thenardier ' _And just for that, I have to stay with Lisette till they come back for us,'_ she decided even as she heard Combeferre reluctantly dragging a hysterical Azelma away from the scene.

Mme. Thenardier looked blearily at Fantine. "You...with them..."

"No. I can talk to the police so they won't take you," Fantine said. She got to her feet as Inspector Perrot arrived on the landing, with a squad of policemen behind him. "Are you here for the burglar downstairs?" she asked mildly.

Inspector Perrot gave her a look of surprise. "That was no burglar," he said in an undertone. "I told you we'd meet again soon. I must thank you for leading us here," he added more loudly.

"Not like this," Fantine insisted. "You...you can't bring her to jail. She's ill."

"Saint-Lazare has an excellent infirmary," Perrot said, crossing his arms. He looked at Mme. Thenardier. "Where is your eldest daughter?"

Mme. Thenardier coughed but she still glared at the inspector and shook her fists at him. "Don't you dare come near us."

Perrot recoiled but for a moment. He looked at the women imperiously before he snapped his fingers for his companions to come forward. "Unless you give us proof to the contrary, you are under arrest for assaulting an officer of the law, that man downstairs."

"Inspector Perrot-" Fantine protested, clutching at his coat.

He shook her off with an oath. "Don't make a spectacle of yourself, Madame Fabre," he said as he grabbed her hands to help her to her feet. "I suggest you accompany us to care for Madame Thenardier. Don't worry about the rest of the family; they will be duly informed."


	25. Chapter 25: A Rescue May Make One More Lost

**Chapter 25: A Rescue May Make One More Lost**

It quickly became clear to Fantine that the only mercy that she and Mme. Thenardier could hope for was to travel to the Prison Saint-Lazare in a fiacre instead of in an open prison wagon. ' _That may be the last warmth Lisette will have for some time unless we're found right away,'_ she realized as she tried to get comfortable during the bumpy journey. "Don't you worry Lisette. They'll come back for us," she said in a half-cheery tone.

Mme. Thenardier shivered under her large shawl. "They should not. Prison will ruin my girls."

"Yes, but what will it do to you?" Fantine asked plaintively. She cringed as she thought back on the events of the previous hour and a half; it was clear that she had interrupted Eponine's plan at the worst possible moment, only to inadvertently further jeopardize the very person she had intended to help. ' _What if the police mean to keep us in prison so they can also catch the young ones when they come back for us?'_ she wondered despairingly.

When she looked at Mme. Thenardier again, she saw that the ill woman's face had taken a ponderous look. "The police want either my girls, or Nicolas. Who else will come for us?" Mme. Thenardier asked.

The name of Jean Valjean almost rose to Fantine's lips but she shook her head. ' _If Javert sees him, it will be La Force and worse for him then,'_ she realized. Cosette and Victor would only be putting themselves in harm's way if they attempted to help. ' _Maybe the only way is for Monsieur Thenardier to find someone to come here,'_ she thought resignedly.

She saw that Mme. Thenardier was shivering more violently now. "I hope that they'll leave Paris soon. Maybe go to the ocean. Eponine has always wanted to go there. He knows of it," the older woman whispered between deep hacking coughs.

Fantine's eyes widened. "Who?"

Mme. Thenardier let out a deep sigh. "I wonder which of those young men fancies Azelma." A slight smile played across her chapped lips. "Does your Cosette have any young man courting her?"

Fantine shook her head. "If you mean by visiting and giving her flowers, then no one." She winced when she heard Mme. Thenardier cough more harshly. "Maybe you should rest-" she began just as the carriage lurched to a stop.

Moments later the carriage door opened, letting in a most unwelcome draft of cool air. "Welcome to Saint-Lazare," Perrot, extending his hand in what would have been a courteous gesture if not for the sneer on his face.

Fantine kept her hand around Mme. Thenardier's arm to keep her from tottering out of the carriage. "May I send word to my home, and ask someone to bring medicine? You can see that my friend is ill," she said firmly to the inspector.

"The infirmary here is already well stocked," Perrot snapped before motioning for the guards to assist the women. He looked intently at Fantine. "I need to speak with you urgently."

"I have to take care of her-" Fantine protested, only to feel a pair of hands clamp on her shoulders to push her towards the inspector. She cast a helpless glance at Mme. Thenardier as the latter was being led off by a warden. "I'll be back to help you, I promise!" she called to her friend, but Mme. Thenardier did not say a word or make any sign of reply.

As she followed Perrot down a corridor, she caught sight of a man seated in the prison yard, wincing as another warden bandaged his head. She quickly bowed her head, recognizing him as the man she'd seen talking to Javert some days ago. To her surprise, Perrot stopped in his tracks, swore under his breath and strode up to this injured man. "You were out of post," he barked.

"I was making sure the area was safe," the man groused in a low voice.

"Yes, but was attacking the girl necessary?" Perrot hissed. "The least you could have done was to arrest her companions, but you bungled even that! You were armed!"

"The hussy caught me by surprise, and the brat with yellow hair dealt me a  _fouette_ ," the agent retorted, pointing to his injury.

Fantine had to bite back a laugh on hearing this; it had been years since she'd heard anyone mention this savate term. ' _Was it Fameuil or Listolier who knew something of it?'_ she wondered silently but before she could mull on this further she felt Perrot's hand on her arm, guiding her to a small room furnished with two seats and a creaky desk.

Perrot heaved a sigh as he watched Fantine take a seat. "I require your utmost cooperation, Madame. You can see as well as I do that Madame Thenardier is in no condition for an interrogation."

"She couldn't have assaulted that man either," Fantine pointed out indignantly.

Perrot merely crossed his arms. "So if you are intent on setting this to rights, then tell me of the whereabouts of those revolutionaries and the Thenardier girls."

"I do not know where they are."

"You were with them, helping rescue that woman."

Fantine took a deep breath. "I only meant to visit Lisette and see how I could help. I didn't know what her daughters had planned. I know it sounds so strange and it's difficult to believe, but I wouldn't lie about this, I swear!"

Perrot's eyes narrowed. "Do you want to be considered an accomplice to sedition or insurgency?"

"Accomplice? I didn't do anything wrong, Monsieur!" Fantine gasped.

"You allowed  _four_  suspicious characters to escape," Perrot seethed. "Unless you give me their whereabouts, I may have to place you under suspicion as well."

"Monsieur Perrot, I only was there to help a friend. You know I'd have nothing to do with something so dangerous," Fantine pleaded. She could feel tears springing to her eyes but she willed herself to blink them away before Perrot could notice. "You know me. You can believe me," she added more softly.

"Is that enough? I need further proof," Perrot growled.

"What more must I do?" Fantine asked, reaching across the desk for Perrot's hands. "Tell me!"

Before Perrot could answer, a knock sounded on the door. "Monsieur Perrot, there is an Attorney Marius Pontmercy waiting to see you," a clerk bawled.

"Tell him to wait," Perrot snapped.

"He's here on behalf of the ill prisoner, Mme. Thenardier. The warden spoke to him already," the clerk said blithely.

Perrot rubbed his temples. "Wait here Madame Fabre," he ordered before stalking out of the room and shutting the door firmly behind him.

Fantine immediately sprang up from her seat and pressed her ear to the keyhole, but to her dismay it seemed as if Perrot and his guest were further away down the corridor, too far for her to catch any word or even the slightest sound. ' _Whose friend is he?'_ she wondered as she sat back down; this name had not come up in any of her previous inquiries within the Latin Quartier. Was this lawyer a friend of the older Thenardiers or some high connection of theirs?

It seemed as if hours had passed before the door opened again, but not to admit Inspector Perrot. Instead Fantine found herself facing a slender young man with dark curly hair, who had a grave but earnest air about him. His clothes were old and his shoes in dire need of replacing but his posture was that of one born into high circumstances. "I'd like to speak to Attorney Pontmercy," Fantine said to him by way of greeting.

This stranger ducked his head with some embarrassment. "That is my name. You are  _Mademoiselle_  Fantine Fabre?"

"That is what I am called," Fantine replied, just barely able to conceal her shock at this attorney's age. "How do you know the Thenardiers?"

"My father and Monsieur Thenardier were both at Waterloo," Marius replied cordially. "My father was a colonel, and Monsieur Thenardier saved his life."

' _To rob him perhaps,'_ Fantine couldn't help thinking. "So it was Monsieur Thenardier who sent you here for Lisette?" she asked, taking care to lower her voice.

"No, his daughters," Marius replied. "They are safe."

Fantine had to bite back the word 'where' as she regarded Marius for a long moment. ' _If he's friends with the girls, does that mean he knows the young men too?'_ she wondered. "Monsieur, you know what they're accusing at least Eponine of?"

Marius nodded slowly. "She told me so."

"So you also know them: Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac?" Fantine asked. "Are you sure you yourself aren't being watched by the police?"

"I should hope not," Marius said with a nervous smile.

Fantine sighed, not sure what to make of this comment. "So can you bring Lisette away from here?"

"I've argued for her release on bail, though I cannot stop the police from making further inquiries if they see it fit to do so," Marius said. "At least she will not be arrested."

Fantine managed to smile with relief. "Who paid the bail?"

"Friends of theirs," Marius said with a shrug.

' _Probably those young men,'_ Fantine thought. "What about her daughters?"

"There is only so much that can be done," Marius admitted. "Is there a safe place where we can bring her to recuperate?"

"My home, at the Rue del'Homme Arme," Fantine said. She saw Marius' eyes widen momentarily at this. "Do you know the place?"

"Not very well," Marius replied. "We have to inform her daughters..."

"Eponine knows how to get there," Fantine informed him. ' _And maybe there she and Azelma can escape police notice for a little while,'_ she thought. "What about Monsieur Thenardier?"

Marius looked stricken at this query. "Is it wise to do so?"

"Lisette is asking for him," Fantine said. "I do not know where he is now though."

Marius nodded gravely. "We'll notify him later. Are there any other troubles I must know about, Mademoiselle Fabre?"

Fantine thought of mentioning her own situation but she shook her head.  _'It's good enough for him to do this, and I shouldn't have another person in trouble on my account,'_ she decided as she followed Marius to the infirmary.

By this time Mme. Thenardier was fast asleep, having been given a dose of laudanum by the prison physician. "It should stop her cough for a bit," the physician told Fantine and Marius. "Though don't tell her how much time she may have left," he added in an undertone.

"Days?" Fantine asked.

"Maybe only hours. With good care perhaps she may rise from her bed, but it will be long in telling," the physician said.

' _I am not bringing Lisette to my home simply to die,'_ Fantine resolved. "We'll care for her as best as we can. She'll live to see her daughters' wedding days," she said to the doctor.

The doctor merely crossed himself. "God help you then."

' _I am not sure if even He could,'_ Fantine couldn't help thinking even as she went to help Marius bring Mme. Thenardier to a waiting fiacre. She did not dare to think much on this, or even to pray during the long trip to the Rue del'Homme Arme. All she was aware of was Marius' silence as well as the weak rise and fall of Mme. Thenardier's breathing. It was only when she felt the fiacre come to a gentler stop that she became aware that now it was late afternoon and they were in a safer neighbourhood at last.

To her surprise the Thenardier sisters were already waiting with Jean Valjean, Cosette, and Victor in the front room. On seeing their mother, Eponine only sighed deeply while Azelma couldn't help but let out a cry. "Oh why didn't you come with us?" Azelma wailed as she watched Jean Valjean come up to help Fantine and Marius carry Mme. Thenardier in.

Mme. Thenardier stirred weakly at her daughter's voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you. It's safe here," Eponine replied, clasping her mother's hand. "Monsieur Combeferre and the others went out to get medicines for you; they should be here soon."

In the meantime, Cosette smiled as she looked from Fantine to Marius. "Thank you for helping my mother too, Monsieur," she said to him.

Marius' cheeks reddened. "It was the least I could do, Cosette-I mean, Mademoiselle Fabre."

Fantine's eyebrows shot up on hearing this young man use her daughter's given name. ' _Now who told him about that?'_ she wondered as she helped Mme. Thenardier into one of the beds in the room she shared with Cosette. "I'll sleep in the front room," she said, noticing Cosette's worried look.

"It's still cold there, Maman," Cosette said. "We can bring another mattress into our room, and Eponine and Azelma can stay with us too."

"It's a tight fit," Eponine pointed out. She bit her lip as she looked around the tiny apartment. "Could we go back to the Rue Plumet soon instead?"

Fantine shook her head. "When the weather gets warmer. Maybe summer," she said, only to see Eponine roll her eyes. "We have no choice but to make do here, unless your father comes up with some idea for all of you," she pointed out.

Eponine bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. "He's not coming, not at all. I just haven't told Maman yet since I know what it would do to her."

"What do you mean by not coming?" Fantine blurted out. She regretted it the moment she saw Eponine turn away and shake her head. "You spoke to him, didn't you?"

"He left a note with an old friend," Eponine said, drawing a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. "Read it if you want, Madame Fantine."

Fantine took one look at the stained, reeking missive, and shook her head as she curled Eponine's fingers around the paper. "You may as well burn it. I don't think any of us can bear its contents, not on a night like this."


	26. Chapter 26: Leavetaking

**Chapter 26: Leavetakings**

Despite Fantine's earlier revulsion regarding M. Thenardier's missive, it was only a matter of time till she found herself wondering about its particular contents. ' _It must be truly horrible if it can make Eponine so upset,'_ she mused as she pushed some more wood into the stove warming the front room. An eerie silence had overtaken the apartment despite the fact that everyone was busy; Jean Valjean and Victor were preparing supper in the kitchen while Azelma, Cosette, Marius, Combeferre, Enjolras, and Courfeyrac were in another room tending to Mme. Thenardier. The only other person in the front room was Eponine, who was curled up in an armchair for a much needed nap. As quietly as she could, Fantine stole up to the sleeping girl and found M. Thenardier's note still crumpled up in her hand. She deftly extricated the tobacco stained paper from Eponine's grip and smoothed out the reeking missive on a table in order to decipher this scrawl:

_Babet,_

_If my wife and the girls see you, tell them that I've gone to our benefactors. The business I have requires some elegance and so I have no use for their shamming their illnesses and squawking about coins. I will be moving with utmost discretion, and so I shall not be back soon._

_Regards,_

_Thenardier_

For a moment Fantine had the urge to toss this insulting missive into the stove, but she recalled that Eponine would surely search for it, and so she settled for dropping it next to the armchair. All the same she could feel her limbs trembling from sheer disgust at M. Thenardier's words. ' _He's not what Lisette wants him to be,'_ she realized as she rushed out into the house's narrow front courtyard. She leaned against the wall and took a deep breath in an effort to hold back a sob as the memory of Tholomyes' desertion years ago welled up anew in her mind's eye. As bitter as this recollection was, she knew it could hardly compare to the Thenardiers' present situation. ' _If she asks me about him, will I have to lie just how Sister Simplice did years ago?'_ she wondered.

As she swiped at her eyes she heard the front door open. "Fantine, you should come back inside," Jean Valjean called to her kindly.

"I can't," Fantine said. When she looked up, she now saw Jean Valjean standing at her side. It took a few more moments before she could meet his gaze, which would have been the very picture of serenity if not for the drawn look under his eyes. "What will we do?" she whispered.

Jean Valjean glanced back towards the house. "We have to care for Mme. Thenardier. Perhaps by the time she is strong again her husband will return."

Fantine shook her head. "Not only her." She shivered as she recalled the harrowing events of the afternoon, especially the sight of her friend gasping for breath in the abandoned stairwell. "The girls and those young men do not trust me. I was only trying to help. I didn't know that the police were following me. I wouldn't have gone to the Marais if I had the slightest idea of it."

"Eponine and Azelma said they were trying to get their mother away from the area when you arrived?" Jean Valjean asked.

Fantine sighed miserably. "They never said to where. Maybe they were going to the Necker or someplace better. Now it's not going to be of any use since she's so sick and of course they'll never forgive me for making a mess of it."

Jean Valjean looked down even as he stepped a little closer to her, perhaps in order to not be overheard by anyone in the house. "Have you ever told them why Inspector Perrot relies on you?"

"What would I tell them? That it all began because I had to keep Cosette away from the police when they thought she was with that meeting at the Musain?" she seethed. "They will not understand."

"They will refuse your help if you cannot convince them to trust you," he pointed out.

"I do not have a choice," Fantine hissed. "I cannot tell the truth either because of Perrot. If he finds out that I told of our arrangement, he'll have all of us in prison before we know it!"

Jean Valjean was silent for a few more moments. "Is there no means of amiably parting ways with him? He has already learned much from you, and it will be unseemly for him to still do so now that there is an attorney in the picture," he said, but his tone was soft as if he was speaking more to himself than to her.

Nevertheless she heard and so she shook her head. "I know who he wants." She sighed as she recalled her rash promise to Eponine; it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her word without endangering so many other persons. ' _Perrot will want me to give up someone, anyone,'_ she realized. What if he would ask her to hand Victor over to the police? ' _If I do that it will be as good as if I turned him out into the street after Lisette pushed him away,'_ she thought.

Jean Valjean let out a heavy sigh. "Does Javert know about this situation?"

"I do not know." This was a possibility that Fantine did not wish to contemplate at length, especially since Javert knew the man who had broken into the hovel at the Marais. It would not be long till the police officers would start comparing notes about this incident and Javert would make the connection, if he hadn't done so already. "If he knows, where will we go this time?"

"Out of Paris," he murmured.

"Where?" she wondered aloud. Despite all the years and miles away from Montreuil-sur-mer, Javert had still found them. He had also recognized Jean Valjean from the galleys at Toulon. It now seemed to Fantine that he had a reach that encompassed all of France. "We'll have to leave the country."

He nodded pensively as he leaned against the garden wall. "England is closest by."

Despite the gathering dark, she felt a laugh rising to her lips at the mention of this place. "A friend of mine once went there. Her name was Favourite. She liked England very much," she explained.

Jean Valjean's expression was a little brighter. "What will we be there?"

"A respectable family," Fantine blurted out. "Maybe not just you, me, Cosette, and Victor. Lisette, Eponine, and Azelma can come too. We can leave when we've prepared properly for it and when Lisette is well again." She could envision all of them in a cottage by the sea, as she had once seen in a picture in a book featuring the town of Brighton; she knew nothing of the place but the name was wholesome to her ears. Perhaps there, in a different clime, there would be no need for all the names they carried. ' _What would I be though after having been Mademoiselle Fabre for so long?'_ she wondered.

Suddenly the sound of a door opening and shutting cut through her reverie, prompting her to hurry into the house. She and Jean Valjean found Victor and Enjolras outside Mme. Thenardier's sickroom, poring over what was clearly a clandestine newsletter. At the sight of them, the two young men ceased their conversation and Victor pocketed the reading material. Enjolras merely nodded to them diffidently. "There hasn't been a change."

"It hasn't been very long," Fantine answered. She looked at Victor and crossed her arms. "I need to speak with Monsieur Enjolras. Go to your sister."

Victor chewed the inside of his cheek. "Now?"

"Please," Fantine said more sternly. It was all she could do not to breathe a sigh of relief when Victor followed Jean Valjean to the sickroom and shut the door behind him. She swallowed hard as she looked at Enjolras, who now seemed to be deep in thought. "I will not allow you and your friends to endanger my son," she told him.

Enjolras met her angry eyes for a moment. "You should know that we do not permit him to be involved in some of our activities. However we cannot prevent his forming opinions."

"He's a child! Do you expect him to know better?" Fantine snapped. "What sort of ideas have you boys been giving him?"

"Ideas that he is free to adopt," Enjolras replied.

' _Why does he listen to you, Bahorel, and the others, but not to me?'_ Fantine raged silently. "What about Eponine? Are you simply allowing her to follow you into danger?"

"She is not doing such a thing," he retorted.

"She would," Fantine insisted. She sighed when she saw Enjolras raise an eyebrow sceptically. "I know you find it difficult to believe me, but I am telling the truth when I say that the police have been following you—you and your friends. They have been doing so for some months now, since that raid at the Musain, maybe even before. I am sure that they will put you in prison if they don't do worse to you at an emeute," she continued.

"Why are you telling me this?" Enjolras demanded.

"She's not my daughter but I look at her almost as my own, as if she was Cosette's sister. I've known her and her family for years," she said softly.

He nodded almost imperceptibly. "Then what would you have me do?"

"Keep her away from your fighting. "You love her even a little. If you don't love her, at least have a little pity," Fantine entreated him. "She's so young and you're going to lead her to her death! How can you stand it?"

Enjolras' eyes narrowed. "That is not my intention. You presume a great deal, Citizenness."

"You cannot be certain that she will be safe either," Fantine challenged.

"And I s'pose you think you're the one who is sure of it?" Eponine's voice chimed in. She was now standing in the doorway of the front room, still blinking sleep away from her eyes. She bit her lip as she looked at Fantine and Enjolras. "How is my mother?"

"She is still asleep," Enjolras replied, taking a step towards her. "You should be there when she wakes."

Eponine sighed grimly as she met him and slipped her thin fingers between his callused ones before following him back towards the sickroom. It was at that exact instant that Cosette and Marius emerged from the room, also hand in hand. A smile of wry mirth crossed Eponine's face while Cosette's cheeks reddened. Enjolras merely raised an eyebrow as Marius shrugged sheepishly before pulling Cosette aside in order to allow their friends to pass.

Fantine looked at Cosette and Marius for a long moment, now finding herself at a complete loss for words. She now remembered having seen Marius at the Luxembourg so many weeks ago, and now she was absolutely certain that this young man had found some means to secretly keep up communication with Cosette. ' _How could I have been so blind to it all this while?'_ Fantine wondered with dismay.

Cosette took a deep breath. "Maman, I'm sorry that Marius and I have been quiet about this for a while, when we should have told you earlier-"

"I told you that you were not allowed to see him!" Fantine cut in. "Why did you disobey me?"

Marius looked stricken but he did not let go of Cosette's hand. "Mademoiselle Fabre, the fault is entirely mine," he said. "I wrote to Cosette."

Cosette gave him an affronted look. "Marius, it's my doing too," she whispered. She was pale as she looked at Fantine again. "Maman, I know you worry about him, but you can see he's a good man, he's been nothing but kind to me."

' _They all are at the beginning,'_ Fantine thought as she crossed her arms again. "Yes, but what will he bring you to? With the friends he has, I cannot trust him."

"I do not mean to bring her to any harm," Marius insisted. "I'd give up my life for her first."

Fantine shook her head as she looked at Marius. "I would do that same thing, Monsieur, and I have in some way. That is why I cannot allow you to see her."

"Maman, please!" Cosette begged. "If you could just listen-"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Cosette!" Fantine cried. She saw Cosette's eyes grow wide and it was only then she realized that she'd grabbed her daughter by her shoulders, as if to shake her or pull her away from Marius. Fantine recoiled and stepped away from the girl. "Cosette-"she whispered over the sound of the sickroom door opening. Fantine looked up and met Combeferre's weary eyes. "How is Lisette?"

Combeferre shook his head. "If you have something to say to her, now is the time."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Fantine asked. "Some medicine, something more-"

"I wish there was such a thing," Combeferre said, stepping aside to let them into the room.

' _You've seen people go before in the infirmary. You can't afford to cry now,'_ Fantine told herself as she entered the room, taking care not to meet the eyes of anybody else there, not even her own daughter. She felt something tighten in her chest when she saw Eponine and Azelma curled up in bed next to their mother's almost motionless form. "Lisette, can you hear me?" Fantine murmured as she found a place at her friend's bedside.

It seemed to her at that moment that Mme. Thenardier's lips quivered, as if she was trying to speak even as her breath was beginning to fail her. Fantine pressed the woman's thick though wasted hand in her own thin one. "Can't you stay? You need to. Your girls need you," she whispered. Yet how many times had this poor woman heard this, or perhaps repeated it to herself? How long would it sustain her, if ever at all?

Fantine took a deep breath as she chafed Mme .Thenardier's fingers. "When you get better, I'll make sure you'll be cared for. We can get away from here and live someplace better. You'll never have to worry again." She paused to wipe her eyes. "I'm sorry it went this way, I'm sorry I never did more for you and your family when I could have. It can be different, Lisette. I promise it can be."

At that moment Eponine sat up and for a moment she scowled when she saw Fantine. "What are you doing here?"

' _What I have to do,'_ Fantine almost said but she kept silent as she continued to clasp Mme. Thenardier's hand. Eponine touched her mother's shoulder even as she shook Azelma awake. Mme. Thenardier was insensible to all of this; her chest rose and fell slowly for a few more moments till at last she was still.

Fantine chafed Mme. Thenardier's palm, but she now felt nothing in that sturdy hand. "She's gone. I'm sorry," she whispered, looking at the Thenardier girls.

Eponine nodded resolutely even as she clumsily pulled her sobbing sister closer to her. "Goodbye Maman."


	27. Chapter 27: An End to Spring

**Chapter 27: An End to Spring**

The morning was still bright and dewy when Lisette Thenardier (nee Sorel) was at last laid to rest in the Pere Lachaise cemetery. When asked how Monsieur Thenardier could be found in time for the Mass, Eponine only shook her head. "He wouldn't want to be bothered anyway."

This stinging reply still rang in Fantine's mind even as she watched the gravediggers levelling the earth over the fresh grave. ' _He's not the only man who is that way,'_ she thought bitterly as she bowed her head so that her family, as well as the Thenardier siblings and their motley group of friends would not be able to see her expression. Somehow this reminded her all too well of another evening so many years ago when she, Dahlia, Zephine, and Favourite had waited in a carriage for what they had been told would be a good sort of joke. Even so, she knew that Tholomyes' heedlessness was a drop in the bucket beside M. Thenardier's desertion.

She felt a hand brush against her wrist, breaking her out of her reverie. "We should go, Fantine. It's going to rain," Jean Valjean said concernedly.

"One more thing, Monsieur," Fantine said, glancing to where the Thenardier sisters were now standing by the grave, having just bid Cosette and Victor goodbye. Even though they weren't garbed in black, having lacked time to make or dye dresses in this somber shade, they were a truly dismal sight. Eponine was pale and silent while Azelma's face and eyes were red and puffy from crying. Fantine walked up quietly to them, only to stop when Eponine turned sharply to face her. "I'm sorry. I wish we could have been of more hep," Fantine said haltingly.

"You can do no more, Madame Fantine," Eponine said quickly. She took a deep breath as if she was about to say something more but she bit her lip and glanced towards Azelma had now retreated to where Bahorel and some of their other friends were waiting. "Thank you for being here," she added before going after her sibling.

"Eponine, wait-" Fantine began, meaning to ask more about where she and her sister intended to stay, but the girl was far out of earshot. ' _When will those girls stop running into trouble?'_ she despaired as she made to go after them.

She felt a hand on her arm and she turned to see Victor. "They'll be fine, Maman. They know their way about," the boy drawled.

' _A way into trouble maybe,'_ Fantine thought as she watched the young people leave. She had not expected Marius, Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac to stay after Mme. Thenardier had passed away, but they had been on hand all throughout the funeral and the burial. She did not know which of them had told Bahorel, Joly, Musichetta, and some other friends about the funeral, or who of them had helped Jean Valjean make the necessary arrangements. Yet here they all were gathered, mourners for a woman they knew next to nothing about while the departed's own friends had seemingly stayed away.

"Did Eponine and Azelma give you any new address?" she asked Victor after a few moments.

Victor looked at her quizzically. "They'll find us when they need us again."

Fantine forced herself to nod, even though she had that sinking feeling that those days were at an end. She knew she could never rid herself of the memory of Azelma's weeping or Eponine's fury over the past few days. ' _God, please let me find them soon. It's what Lisette would have wanted,'_ she prayed silently as she rejoined her own family.

Unfortunately this prayer went unanswered the next morning, and then the one after that. The days soon turned into weeks, passing so quickly such that Fantine hardly noticed that the end of May was approaching. It seemed to her now that a languor had taken over her life: her own children had fallen silent now that they had been forbidden to see their friends, while Jean Valjean was more reticent than ever. Perrot ceased to importune her while the surviving Thenardiers kept well out of sight. She no longer had any news of Zephine, and she only heard from Mabeuf through occasional reports from Jean Valjean or Victor.

' _What shall I do, now that no one needs my help?'_ the thought occurred to her one afternoon, on the first of June, as she was at the Rue Ferou, intent on purchasing some cloth for summer dresses. Although there were other markets and stores closer to the Rue del'Homme Arme, Fantine was still drawn to her old haunts of the Latin Quartier, usually taking care to steer clear of some particularly controversial locations such as the Place Saint-Michel. However her search today had brought her to this street once again; there were few areas in Paris so well stocked.

She paused when she entered one of the shops and saw Musichetta just emerging from the backroom. The grisette also stopped in her tracks and put her hands akimbo when she saw Fantine. "We've missed your business here, Mademoiselle Fabre," she greeted.

Fantine willed herself to meet the younger woman's eyes, which were darker than ever with disdain. "I'm only here for some cloth-" she began before seeing Musichetta shake her head slightly. She looked down in an effort to collect herself. "Have you got a moment, Mademoiselle Laurain?"

Musichetta's eyes flashed as she went up to Fantine. "Please tell your friends to look elsewhere," she said in an undertone.

"I just need to know where Eponine and Azelma are," Fantine pleaded.

"Who is asking, you or Cosette?" Musichetta hissed. She sighed on seeing that Fantine did not simply turn on her heel and leave. "They're living someplace safe. Is that enough for you?"

"Are they living with you and Monsieur Joly?" Fantine insisted, only to regret it the moment Musichetta shook her head and sauntered back to her own work. ' _Who else would possibly know where the girls are?'_ she wondered helplessly. It had occurred to her a few times to seek out Marius, Enjolras, or some of their other friends, but she could never bring herself to approach the young men about this matter. She busied herself with perusing some of the bolts of cloth in the store, all the while glancing now and then at Musichetta to ensure that the girl didn't leave the premises.

At length she saw Musichetta walk up to her, still wearing an expression of pure disapproval. "What do you really want?" she asked pointedly.

"To know that my friend's daughters are safe," Fantine answered. "They are so young-"

"I wasn't much older when I began to live with  _this,"_ Musichetta retorted, holding up her hands to indicate the shop they were in. "They have friends to help them. That makes them far luckier than many others in their place."

"That's not enough."

"What do you know, Mademoiselle Fabre?"

' _Everything,'_ Fantine almost blurted out, remembering now all her nights plying a needle and thread, remaining silent while her older friends laughed at some sophisticated joke she did not understand, and of course Tholomyes' insincere caresses. Still, she forced herself to swallow these words. "I did not always live so well too," she said slowly. "My father and I have had to give up a great deal just for Cosette and Victor."

Musichetta smoothed out her lace pelerine. "Is that enough for me to trust you?"

"What do I have to do?" Fantine asked desperately. "I do not expect us to be friends, Mademoiselle, but I do not mean you any harm."

The younger woman was quiet for a few moments as she continued to fiddle with her cape. "I won't tell you where they are, but I can bring a message," she finally offered. "Whether they will reply is entirely up to them."

Fantine managed a nod. "Tell Eponine and Azelma that we're still at the Rue del'Homme Arme, and they are welcome to stay." She swallowed hard, remembering now her conversation with Jean Valjean about the possibility of moving to England. "If they wish, we can discuss about going someplace safer, where the police and their father can't find them."

"Is that really all?"

"It's all in their hands, as you said."

Musichetta nodded more curtly before gesturing to the door. "I'll make sure to tell them. Now I have to work to do. Good day to you Mademoiselle Fabre, and please give my regards to Cosette and Victor."

"Thank you Mademoiselle Laurain," Fantine said, trying her best to keep her tongue from twisting around this odd name. She quickly quitted the shop and rushed down the Rue Ferou, not daring to raise her eyes lest she come across yet another familiar face. For a while she hardly knew where her feet were taking her, not until she heard shouts coming from the street ahead of her. ' _What sort of trouble now is this?'_ she wondered as she tried to look for a detour, but found all her paths blocked by a growing crowd outside a house. She kept a tight grip on her purchases as she picked her way through the throng, which was comprised of workers from nearby ateliers, a number of shop clerks, and a good many students. It did not take long for her to locate Enjolras and Courfeyrac in the middle of this crowd, handing out papers and occasionally addressing the group, which included Marius and a few other faces who Fantine recognized from the Latin Quartier.

She took a deep breath before approaching a beggar wiping his nose on a sheet of paper. "What is everyone here for?" she asked.

The beggar stared at her as if she had gone mad before letting out a hoarse cackle. "That be General Lamarque's house," he wheezed. "Look sharp there, Mademoiselle, there's news."

She turned to see Combeferre and Joly conferring with some other medical students at the door of the house. Combeferre's face was grim as he went out to speak to Enjolras and Courfeyrac. Whatever he said had been overheard by some other bystanders, who began whispering and elbowing their neighbours in turn. "Lamarque is dying!" someone hissed. "Won't last a few more days!"

Fantine only shook her head; the name of Lamarque was not alien to her, but the fury surrounding it was more alarming than anything. "Dying of what?" she asked.

"The cholera, what else? The water is poisoned, all of it, and now he's going to fall ill like the rest of us who have no choice but to drink in," the beggar snapped.

The mention of cholera sent a chill down Fantine's spine. Even in the relative isolation of the Rue del'Homme Arme she could not escape the whispers and news surrounding this dreadful disease that was reputed to fell a strong man in a matter of hours. She looked around for another way out, and froze on seeing seven gendarmes on horseback at one end of the street, with Perrot leading the charge. The agitated crowd was now in an uproar as some men, among them Bahorel, rushed to confront the constables, while others backed away, all the while shouting down the police. Fantine struggled to retain her footing and keep from being knocked to the ground, but she found herself being pushed towards an archway near the house. She cringed and shut her eyes as Perrot and a companion of his rode by in pursuit of some of the more belligerent students. After several seemingly interminable moments she at last dared to look up and saw that most of the crowd had already dispersed and even the gendarmes were nowhere in sight. She trembled in every limb as she took one step forward, then a second, and then another, till she had at last quitted the scene of the disturbance.

Her head was still awhirl when she at last reached the decidedly safer environs of the gardens outside the Tuileries. Here at last she felt she could breathe and shake away the frenzy of the past few minutes. ' _Why must those young men go about so?'_ she wondered as she walked down the shady walk of the Cours de la Reine, just near the river. It almost made her weep to think that Victor, her adopted son, should be party to such danger. ' _At least when I was younger, young men didn't like to get themselves killed!'_ she thought, now feeling suddenly far older than ever.

Just as she was about to turn about and make her way home she caught sight of a lean, almost spindly gentleman apparently loudly haranguing his comrades. On closer inspection she saw that the gentleman was none other than M. Thenardier in a rented suit of clothes complete with an ill fitting felt hat. The former innkeeper's companions appeared to be dandies from out of town, judging from their coats which were clean but with collars cut a little too high to be fashionable. For a moment Fantine felt the urge to walk up to this scene and denounce Thenardier, but she willed herself to simply walk past without looking his way.

As fate would have it M. Thenardier was just straightening up from making a deep bow. "Why if it isn't my old friend Madame Fabre!" he called.

" _Mademoiselle_  Fabre to you, Monsieur," Fantine replied tersely as she stopped in her tracks. It was all she could do not to wrinkle her nose at the reek of tobacco that stuck to M. Thenardier's clothes. "You have been away all spring, Monsieur."

"A matter of business, as I am sure you can understand," M. Thenardier said as he walked quickly towards her. "Have you seen my girls?"

Fantine looked him squarely in the face. "Not in a while. If you were more mindful of your own home, you would know better."

"Listen well, Madame," M. Thenardier said in a low voice. "You know some of those gendarmes and one of them has made that blunder of accusing my daughters of causing trouble. He's out to commit murder most foul, so they say. Tell me who he is."

"I cannot. I do not know that man you are talking about," She was sure that the name Claquesous was merely a  _nom de guerre_ , something which probably would not mean anything to the heads of the police, even Javert or the Prefect Gisquet. There would be no use in sending M. Thenardier down this line of inquiry.

M. Thenardier's face twisted into a sneer as he stepped closer. "You must have seen him."

"That doesn't mean a thing."

"Come now, don't make things difficult for an old friend, someone who is like family, almost an uncle to your own little ones."

Fantine could have sworn that her skin crawled with revulsion as she took a step back. "You're no family or friend to me, even if I was a friend to your wife. Aren't you going to ask about her?"

"Her and her complaints!"

"She's dead. Didn't you ever know that?"

M. Thenardier's eyes widened for a moment with a look of sheer shock before he shook his head. "You're lying."

"I wish I were! Go see her at Pere Lachaise," Fantine hissed. "Why didn't you come when Eponine was looking for you? "

"I was busy with appointments," M. Thenardier retorted.

"Lisette was asking for you while she still could! She was waiting for you till the end, and you simply turned her back on her!" Fantine hissed. She knew people in the park were looking on, and she thought she saw a few fine ladies whispering among themselves, but she could not bring herself to exercise any delicacy after so many years of witnessing M. Thenardier's tomfoolery. "I saw the letter you gave to Eponine. You did not have the slightest thought for her or for Azelma."

"That hussy was interrupting me at business!" M. Thenardier snapped. He shot a quick glance at a gentleman walking by before letting out a sound that was somewhere between a choked gasp and a badly feigned wheeze. "If I had known it was serious, I certainly would have come!" he added in a louder, almost plaintive tone. "Where are my poor little chicks staying now? Tell me, Madame! May I visit them at your home?"

"They are with friends, and you are not welcome at my dwelling," Fantine said, taking yet another step away from him.

"Not with Montparnasse. They are too fine for that now," M. Thenardier muttered. "With a proper bourgeois swain, no doubt? How clever of them, my little minxes, never telling their poor Papa about their beaus!"

' _Of course they wouldn't, after that mess with Verdier!'_ Fantine might have said but now there were too many people at the promenade to allow for decent conversation in this line. She could feel a lump in her throat just from looking at M. Thenardier; the longer she remained, the more she wondered how her friend could have fallen in love with such a man. ' _Perhaps the way we all do when we are young,'_ she told herself as she made again to leave, but before she could get away M. Thenardier had thrown himself at her feet. "Monsieur, what are you doing?" she hissed.

"Haven't you any pity on me?" M. Thenardier asked. "I've been ill treated by a baron, some booby who is too young for the title and fancies himself a lawyer. Some thanks for my saving a general at Waterloo! I've got a name too worth wearing, as you know! Or has a Fabre become too high for a Thenardier?"

The way that Thenardier had said 'Fabre' was so full of vitriol, making the name ring like an insult to Fantine's ears. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave, but it was impossible to simply do so, now that everyone on the promenade was looking their way. ' _Just as he intended no doubt,'_ she realized, now suddenly feeling sick. She shut her eyes for a moment to collect her wits, as well as to gather the strength to take another step, but only so she could walk past him and head to the other end of the Cours de la Reine. She thought she heard M. Thenardier swear and even spit in her tracks, but she willed herself not to look back.

By the time she arrived back at the Rue del'Homme Arme, the sun was already setting and a sudden chilly breeze was chasing away the afternoon heat. Fantine could have wept with relief when she opened the apartment door and saw Cosette quietly sewing in the front room. At the sound of her mother's footsteps, Cosette set aside the basket. "Maman, are you well?" she asked worriedly.

"Yes I am, my dear. Get back to your sewing," Fantine said as she set down the cloth she'd bought and then sat down near the stove.

Cosette sprang to her feet and went over to her mother. "You're so pale! Are you feeling unwell? Should I make some tea or something else for you?"

"I only need to rest a little," Fantine replied, now beginning to feel her temples throbbing. ' _God please not the cholera,'_ she prayed silently, having heard that sometimes sufferers complained of this sort of malaise before the disease's full course came upon them. She took a few deep breaths and to her relief her headache began to ebb. "Where are Victor and your grandfather?" she asked Cosette.

"They went to see Monsieur Mabeuf," Cosette replied, shifting so that she was sitting in front of her sewing basket. She put her hands in her lap before looking at her mother. "Maman, will we ever go back to the Rue Plumet?"

The mention of this old address sent a pang through Fantine's chest; everything there had been full of sunshine and hope, in that garden she could trust to find sunshine and wildflowers, and the neighbourhood was far more tranquil. "Maybe not. It's still not safe," she willed herself to say.

"The police might have forgotten about...us," Cosette said carefully. She wrung her hands before speaking again. "This place is too small, it's going to be cold if we spend the autumn and winter here, there's no one to talk to, so can't we at least  _think_  of it?"

"Maybe. I shall have to ask your grandfather first," Fantine replied.

Cosette let out a long suffering sigh. "I shan't mind so much if only I could-"

"No visitors, please. You yourself said that this place is too small," Fantine reminded her. Yet even at that moment she could read the quiet plea in Cosette's face. ' _I can't tell her about talking to Musichetta. I can't tell her about seeing that Pontmercy fellow,'_ she resolved.

Cosette sat up straighter. "They could call for a short while, just so you could speak with them. You'd like them as much as Victor and I do."

"I do not like what they talk about, Cosette."

"Maman, if you could please just listen for a little! We hardly speak to anyone else anymore!"

"I don't want you and Victor to get into trouble!" Fantine insisted. She crossed her arms when she saw Cosette swallow hard. "You must understand, I'm only doing this to keep you and your brother safe."

"From what?" Cosette asked.

' _Everything I know but you can't remember,'_ Fantine said, suddenly feeling her tongue grow heavy. How could she explain to Cosette all she'd seen as a young girl, or evoke the long buried memories of their stay in Montreuil-sur-mer? She could not trust herself to sum up those bitter years in just a few words. "You'll understand when you're older."

Cosette merely looked down again but she straightened up when she saw the front door open to admit Jean Valjean and Victor. "Finally, there you are! How is Monsieur Mabeuf?"

"Getting by," Jean Valjean replied, but there was a certain gravity in his tone that perturbed Fantine, more so when he looked at her. ' _Which means that he's not doing well, not at all,'_ Fantine realized.

"Is he still at Austerlitz?" Fantine asked after a moment.

"Yes. We must visit him again soon," Jean Valjean said.

Victor tapped his foot impatiently. "That's not the only thing we heard of today, Maman. There's news about tonight."

Fantine, who had been about to go into the kitchen, stopped and turned to look at him. . "What about?"

Victor took a deep breath. "General Lamarque is dead."


	28. Chapter 28: Preludes

**Chapter 28: Preludes**

Although Fantine already had a rough sort of sketch in her mind as to the state of Mabeuf’s misfortunes, she was still astonished at the destitution that greeted her and Jean Valjean when they visited their friend at the neighbourhood of Austerlitz. “How could you bear to do this?” she asked when she saw Mabeuf’s bookcase almost completely devoid of the rare tomes and volumes that had once brought so much pride to their owner, save for one last copy of Diogenes.

“Mother Plutarque and I need to buy dinner,” Mabeuf replied with a smile that was both bitter and resigned. He shook his head as he contemplated his bookcase. “She is ill today though, and I have not decided if I should dine at all.”

“My friend, if there is anything---“ Jean Valjean began.

The former churchwarden shook his head. “You have troubles of your own, Monsieur Fabre,” he said gravely. “Let others worry about me.”

“What will you do then after this?” Fantine asked, not daring to look back at the almost empty bookshelf. Aside from this piece, there was hardly any furniture left in Mabeuf’s cottage; in fact the hovel was plunged into shadow since Mabeuf no longer bought candles.

Mabeuf did not answer but only looked out the window and then back at his bookshelf. “Two hundred francs. That should be a mercy,” he mumbled at last before he seized the last volume and tucked it under his arm. “Should I go to the sellers on the Rue de Gres or on the Place du Sorbonne?”

‘ _To none of them!’_ Fantine might have said but she bit her tongue lest Mabeuf catch an untoward word. She wrung her hands as she looked to Jean Valjean. “It can only last him so far! What shall we do?”

“I will try to speak with him,” Jean Valjean said quickly in an undertone. “You have to go home ahead of me. There may be trouble on the streets today; it’s Lamarque’s funeral tomorrow.”

“At least the funeral procession will not be passing too near our neighbourhood,” Fantine said. From what she knew the cortege would stop by the Place Vendome and go by the way of the Rue Saint Honore in the general direction of the Hotel de Ville. ‘ _All of those places will be under watch even as early as today,’_ she realized. She swallowed hard as she touched Jean Valjean’s elbow. “You need to hurry too.”

Jean Valjean opened his mouth to speak but he suddenly turned towards where there were footsteps coming from the cottage’s front yard. “The police!” he mouthed, suddenly turning deathly pale.

Fantine felt as if her feet were suddenly rooted to the spot even as Mabeuf walked past her to open the door. “Good morning Monsieur Inspecteur. Is there some sort of trouble?” Mabeuf asked worriedly.

“I need to speak with Madame Fantine Fabre, immediately. I heard she was visiting here,” Perrot’s cold voice replied.

Fantine stood on tiptoe to catch a surreptitious look of the doorway; to her relief Perrot was alone and on foot. “I’ll lead him away from here, then you can go,” she said in a whisper to Jean Valjean before she stepped away towards the door. She took care to sweep her long hair back from her face and put on her hat for good measure. “This is a surprise, Monsieur,” she said calmly as she met him in the doorway.   

“I have no time to be social,” Perrot said gruffly. He nodded to Mabeuf. “You have nothing to fear,” he said before drawing Fantine away from the door. Once they were some distance from the hovel he gripped her arm more tightly. “You _have_ been hiding things, Madame,” he spat.

“What sort of things? I already told you everything I know!” Fantine said plaintively.

“Not the conman Nicolas Thenardier. You spoke with him recently, within this week, I hear,” Perrot sneered. You did not inform the Prefecture that he was in league with those troublemaker students.”

“What do you mean?”

“He has been receiving assistance from a certain Marius Pontmercy, who I heard is a lawyer, a graduate of the Sorbonne, and an intimate of Monsieur de Courfeyrac of the Rue de la Verrerie.”

Fantine cringed as she now recalled Marius’ other connections besides the Thenardiers and Cosette. “They go a long way back---him and Monsieur Pontmercy, I mean,” she finally stammered out. “I’m sure that Monsieur Thenardier wouldn’t have anything to do with those boys---“

“And what of his daughters?” Perrot barked. “Both girls are still out of sight. Where have you been hiding them?”

Fantine shook her head. “I thought they were staying with Monsieur Enjolras or----“

“They’re not with him!” Perrot barked. He was now livid in the face as he looked at her. “I don’t see why I do not put you in prison too for complicity right this moment!”

Fantine fell to her knees and kissed his hands. “No, please.” She almost felt sick at the words that rose to her lips, as they had time and again. “Tell me what I have to do.”

Perrot’s eyes narrowed. “You will do it? I have no use for cowards, Madame, especially in these times.”

Fantine nodded. “Anything.”

The inspector yanked her to her feet.  “Tomorrow is the funeral of General Lamarque. There are some lawless elements that will certainly sow unrest on this day. I need to know their rendezvous points and where they have cached their weapons.”

“There are so many of them,” Fantine whispered.

Perrot shrugged this off. “Your children have to help you. That is the only way I can ensure their safety.”

“How can you do that?” Fantine asked. “You have to be at the funeral tomorrow.”

“I can bring you away from suspicion and see to it that the insurgents will not come to your home,” Perrot answered curtly. “Unless of course....”

“They are not welcome at my home, ever,” Fantine cut in. ‘ _I only let them stay because they were helping Lisette,’_ she thought as she averted her eyes; as far as she knew Perrot had no inkling of what had transpired at the Rue de’lHomme Arme, but she knew better than to be certain about what the police were aware of nowadays.

“Is your father still enlisted with the National Guard?”

“He is.”

“Then he knows where he has to be,” Perrot said smugly. “Never have I needed your assistance more, Madame Fabre.”

“Thank you for understanding, Monsieur Perrot,” Fantine managed to say.

“You have till midnight to tell me. Do not delay,” Perrot said before kissing her hand. “Send me a note; I shall surely find it.”

“Yes Monsieur,” Fantine said as she demurely set her hand on a nearby fencepost, ready to clutch it should her knees give out. She watched with bated breath as Perrot walked to the street corner, and only then she turned to rejoin Jean Valjean and Mabeuf in the hovel.

In the cottage she found Mabeuf in tears as he held his face in his hands. Jean Valjean was quietly sitting by him, perhaps waiting for him to speak or simply for the moment to pass. Fantine nodded to Jean Valjean, who simply signed for her to leave. ‘ _If no one can bring him around then who can?’_ Fantine wondered despondently as she quietly shut the door behind her and headed back out to the street.

She took a few deep breaths as she struggled to get her thoughts together. Where would she go to get answers about the next day? Was there even a plan to chase after or was the Prefecture jabbing at shadows? ‘ _It’s about time I started asking my own questions,’_ Fantine decided as she headed to the Rue de la Verrerie.

When she arrived, she found the concierge was away at the market, but the door was open and there were voices upstairs. She took the opportunity to tiptoe almost to the top of the stairs, where she could hear the conversation more clearly.

“There are only a few more things to make sure of before tomorrow morning,” Enjolras was heard to say from inside one of the apartments. “Are the stores of weapons all in place?”

“At Notre Dame and along the procession route,” Feuilly replied. “As well as some personal supplies.”

“Notre Dame still needs to be secured though; Bossuet spoke with the section there yesterday but I will make a last check to be sure,” Courfeyrac replied. “Don’t we have another store at Picpus?”

“Already well handled but we may have to move it to be in better proximity to events. The Society of the Friends of the People has suggested this,” Combeferre said. “The medical students have a leave tomorrow, so there will be a good many attending the funeral.”

“Good. What about the men at the Glaciere?” Enjolras asked.

“They have had some....internal troubles,” Feuilly replied. “So have Jeanne and his neighbours.”

“The Saint-Merry group does not desire for us to interfere in their affairs,” Enjolras said. “Nevertheless their chiefs have still promised a good attendance at the procession. The signal will come from them.”

“What about our own numbers?” Prouvaire chimed in.

“We have promised full attendance as well; there is no need to fear calling a roll,” Enjolras replied wryly.

“What about Eponine and Azelma?” Prouvaire asked. “Where---“

“They’ll be far away from the fighting. I’ve arranged for that,” Enjolras said more seriously. “Courfeyrac, how are matters with Pontmercy?”

“I will meet with him later. He has to settle a number of personal affairs,” Courfeyrac said.

‘ _Nothing to do with Cosette, I should hope!’_ Fantine thought as she stepped away from the door before she should be discovered. As far as she was concerned she already had heard enough to make a good report to Perrot. She hurried down the stairs and back out into the street, just in time to avoid being seen by Marius, who was just about to enter the house. The sight of him had Fantine shaking her head even as she made her way to the station house near the Pont Au Change to make a quick note to Perrot. She gritted her teeth as she wrote, for her already clumsy handwriting was now nearly illegible. ‘ _Let it be enough though,’_ she begged silently as she gave the note to a constable and then made her way back to the Rue de’lHomme Arme.

As she was walking towards her home she caught sight of two men hurrying away from her house. Instead of meeting and greeting them she stepped into the shadow of a nearby carriage gate. She had to grit her teeth when she saw that these visitors were none other than Marius and Bahorel. ‘ _Those boys shouldn’t be here,’_ she thought as she hastened towards her dwelling. Through the window she saw Cosette in the front room, apparently furtively sewing some linen. Fantine let herself into the house as quietly as she could. “Who are those bandages for, Cosette?” she asked.

Cosette quickly put down the linen she’d been stitching. She was pale and her eyes were red-rimmed, but otherwise she seemed perfectly calm and composed.  “They’re for a friend, Maman,” she said.

“A friend meaning Marius?” Fantine asked. “Cosette, we’ve already had this discussion.”

“He and his friends need help, Maman!” Cosette argued. “Tomorrow---“

“Is Lamarque’s funeral. I know their plans already, Cosette,” Fantine said. “They do not bode well.”

Cosette’s eyes widened. “Maman, how did you find out? Did you----“

Fantine sighed deeply, already dreading the words on her lips. “Inspector Perrot asked. It’s the only way I can keep you and Victor safe from the fighting.” She felt her heart sink when she saw Cosette look away with an expression of anguish on her face. “Cosette---“

“I have to warn them,” Cosette whispered.

“Cosette, no!” Fantine said, moving to grab her daughter’s arm. “If you do that, Inspector Perrot will know you are working with those boys.”

“If I don’t do this, my friends will die,” Cosette countered. “Maman, how could you do it, after all that they did for the Thenardiers, and even after all the years we’ve been friends with Bahorel? I know you don’t like fighting or politics but if you could just listen to what they want to do, you’ll see why they believe so much.”  

“All I want is for you and Victor to be safe,” Fantine retorted. She almost shuddered as she envisioned the streets running red, Victor holding a musket far too large for him, and Cosette hiding in a corner as the fighting raged all around her. “You have to stay here in this house, promise me---“ she began but Cosette had already quit the room and slammed their bedroom door behind her.

Fantine sighed and collapsed in a chair, and then looked up to see Victor standing silently in the doorway of the living room. It was clear from the boy’s troubled expression that he heard the entire debacle. “Victor, please don’t go.”

Victor shrugged. “They had news of Eponine and Azelma.”

“Where are they?”

“Not in Paris, that is all I can say.”

Fantine gritted her teeth at this evasion but before she could prod him more, Victor had already excused himself from the room as well. ‘ _Must I bring them away from Paris as well to get them to stay out of danger?’_ she wondered despondently.

By the time Jean Valjean arrived home, Fantine had already made up her mind. “We have to leave this city, by tomorrow if we can,” she told him by way of greeting.

Jean Valjean’s already perturbed countenance darkened. “Is the fighting going to be that bad?”

“It could be,” Fantine replied, looking away as the frightful vision rose before her eyes again. “It need not be forever, maybe just for a little while.”

“We cannot simply leave the city then; there will be uprisings in other parts.”

“So, to England now?”

Jean Valjean nodded. “As you said, only for a little while.”

“That should be enough,” Fantine said. “When will we go?”

“Tomorrow we leave at first light,” Jean Valjean replied. “We must bring as little as possible.”

Fantine nodded understandingly. “How will we tell the children?”

“I will do it,” Jean Valjean offered. “It would not do to have you so upset again, Fantine.”

Fantine breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you Jean.” She saw Jean Valjean’s eyes go wide at this and she clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing now her slight. “I’ll set about to packing our things, Monsieur,” she added more furtively before racing in the kitchen, unwilling now to hear the next confrontation.

Dinner that night was a silent affair. Cosette excused herself quickly, claiming to have a headache, while Victor was sullen. ‘ _They won’t forgive me just yet by tomorrow,’_ Fantine realized as she began packing up some of their cutlery, household linen and a few other necessities. Already she was dreading the upcoming journey; how would they bear to make it when news of events would surely overtake them? Then there was still the possibility of running into Perrot, Javert, or any of their other colleagues on the journey. Fantine was not sure if she could think up a good alibi this time to save them all.

It was past ten in the evening by the time Fantine decided to retire to bed. As she undressed, she noticed Cosette already lying in bed, but quietly looking up at the ceiling. “Maman, do we have to go?” the girl asked.

“It’s no longer safe for us, Cosette,” Fantine reasoned. ‘ _And perhaps no place will ever really be,’_ she thought as she lay down. “Sleep now. We have a long journey tomorrow, my dear.”

Cosette sighed deeply. “Goodnight Maman.”

“Goodnight Cosette,” Fantine whispered before shutting her eyes. It felt as if hours had passed before sleep finally overtook her, but before she knew it she caught slivers of light piercing her vision. ‘ _Is it morning already?’_ she wondered as she opened her eyes.

She saw now that the candle was out, the room was bathed in the pale half-light of morning, and that somehow she was utterly alone. “Cosette?” she asked as she sat up and looked around. She saw that Cosette’s bed was neat and well-made, looking almost as if it had not been slept in at all. “Cosette! Where are you?” she shouted as she got to her feet. She looked through the apartment but realized that not only was Cosette gone, but even Victor and Jean Valjean as well. ‘ _But everyone’s things are still here, so where could they be?’_ she wondered frantically.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she threw on a shawl and raced out in the street, hoping against all hope to find any sign of her family. She let out a sob when she saw Jean Valjean walking hurriedly up from the street corner. “I can’t find Cosette or Victor!”

Jean Valjean’s face was stricken. “Did you hear either of them leave?”

“Not a sign. Where could they be?” Fantine wailed as she sank down to the ground. She did not dare mouth the one answer that sprung in her mind; how could she ever imagine her children heading into the tumult. “We have to go after them.”

“Where would we begin?” Jean Valjean asked as he sat beside her.

Fantine looked at her hands and then up at the sky. “Wherever the police are. They’d know. They’ll be following.” She sighed as she squeezed Jean Valjean’s wrist. “You’ll have to put on your National Guardsman’s uniform, and I’ll have to look nice. It’s the only way now we can get through.” s

 


	29. Chapter 29: A Woman's Place is In Battle

**Chapter 29: A Woman's Place Is In Battle**

Eponine knew better than to be lulled by the quiet in the small village of Issy. ' _How can I, when there is so much happening elsewhere?'_ she wondered silently one night as she was sweeping the bare floor of the small cottage where she and Azelma had spent much of the spring. The early summer heat was fast becoming oppressive, prompting her to pause and throw open the windows to let in a much needed breeze. She lingered for a few moments by the sill, watching the sunset that seemed to turn the road into a golden trail. ' _Leading all the way back to Paris,'_ she thought wistfully.

Azelma looked up from where she was putting away their few dishes. "No one is going to visit tonight, Ponine. They said not to expect them till General Lamarque is buried."

' _Till he is buried and the fighting is up,'_ Eponine almost said. Issy was just a few hours away from Paris, so news and visitors arrived here fairly quickly, if not frequently. It had been two weeks though since she had seen any of their friends and five days since the most recent missive, but this silence did not unnerve her entirely. ' _Only because they are busy and I know what they are about,'_ she told herself as she turned away from the window.

Azelma by this time had finished her work and was looking at her sister with a puzzled look. "You're not happy here, Ponine."

"I don't think we were meant to really stay here in Issy," Eponine said as she gripped the broom again. "If that was so, Feuilly would have given us an address further off, where we could live for good without anyone disturbing us. We only agreed on this place since we could get here quickly and hide from that Monsieur Verdier. It's different now."

Azelma gave her a confused look. "We're safe. What more are you looking for?"

Eponine bit her lip as she tried to think of the words to explain the tempest that had been raging in her mind ever since their mother's death, and had only heightened each time Enjolras and their friends had visited or each time she caught sight of a newspaper. On the whole the tranquility had given her far too much time to look back on things: the past at Montfermeil, the destitution their family had plunged into, and even Fantine's apparent treachery. ' _None of that will be over if we just wait here,'_ she realized as she set aside the broom. "I'm going back to Paris."

Azelma's jaw dropped. "What? But why?"

"I s'pose there's something I should be doing there," Eponine replied. "You stay here in Issy. I'll be back in a few days, and I don't think I'll be alone."

Azelma rolled her eyes. "You just miss Monsieur Enjolras. The last time he and Courfeyrac were here, he told you to stay safe since it's not your fight, that's what he said—"

"Of course I remember, Zelma!" Eponine cut in. These visits were among the few things she had looked forward to during this time in Issy. Sometimes only Enjolras came by, sometimes he was accompanied by a friend or two. No one ever stayed longer than a few hours, just enough time to give news, pass on letters, and share some coffee, but their words were the air Eponine was desperate for in the miasma. "He doesn't know everything that  _can_  happen even if he's thought a lot and planned things. No one does. That's why I'm going back."

"Ponine, what are you going to do?"

"If Madame Fantine has some tricks, or if Claquesous tries something, I can find it and stop it."

Azelma shook her head. "They work with the police! They might catch you!"

"They're just the police. We're everyone," Eponine replied. "And they can't catch everyone. There will always be someone to do something." She smiled wryly as she tried to imagine what all their friends, even Cosette and Victor, would be up to at this juncture. ' _If things go wrong, at least I will have seen some of them,'_ she thought.

Azelma sighed despondently. "How will I know you're safe? What if you don't come back?"

Eponine shrugged. "I'll try to write. And I will come back, even if I have to crawl all the way here. You know that folk like us can't just be stomped away that easily."

At last Azelma cracked a smile. "You'll need a gun if you're going to the funeral. They say it's going to be on June 5, that's tomorrow."

"I know just the place to find one," Eponine said. She went to the small cupboard where she and Azelma kept what little money they had managed to save from doing various odd jobs in the village. ' _I'll only take enough for the carriage; I won't need to eat till I get there,'_ she decided as she pocketed a few coins and then put the rest of the money in her sister's hands. "I'll tell everyone you're doing fine and that you miss them. I'll be back," she said before hugging her tightly.

"Don't do anything awful, Ponine," Azelma whispered before letting go of her and then quickly turning away before her sister could see her cry. "Go now. You need to get there by morning."

Eponine bit her lip as she rummaged for a pair of boots, an old hat as well as a cape, the same green one she had once borrowed from Cosette. She allowed herself one last look at her sister before slipping out of the house and dashing down to the main road. She walked as quickly as she could, such that before night fell completely she had managed to catch up with the diligence headed to Paris. Although she could already smell rain in the air, she could only afford a seat on top of the carriage, but she willed herself to brave the long bumpy journey to the Barriere d'Enfer.

The sun was already beginning to cast its pale rays through the gray morning clouds by the time Eponine dashed through the streets of the Latin Quartier, towards a squat house on the Cul de Sac Saint Dominique. She found the portress of this house asleep, but nevertheless she ran up to the second floor and knocked twice on the first door there. "Good morning Enjolras," she greeted as soon as the door flew open.

Enjolras' eyes narrowed with confusion and dismay when he saw her. He was clearly in the process of readying to go out, judging from the fact that he had already put on his hat but had yet to don an overcoat. "You shouldn't be here, Eponine."

"Shouldn't be is one thing, wanting to be is another," she said, pushing on the door before he could shut it in her face. "Before you ask, since I know you will, I fixed matters at Issy. Azelma will be fine."

Enjolras looked around the hall before opening the door just a fraction wider. "You were safe there. Why did you come back?"

Eponine took a deep breath. "I've been doing a lot of thinking, and while I know that Zelma and I are safe, others aren't." She saw his eyes widen with interest, silently encouraging her to continue. "Everything that's happened to us, to my Maman, to my Papa, and even to Victor and everyone else, it's all just part of a big story that happens to so many other people, I s'pose. It's a story that could be better and I want to do something about it."

The young man raised an eyebrow. "This will not be a simple street scuffle or a brawl. It may happen that we will be killed or imprisoned."

"I know that," she said insistently. She bit her lip as she imagined the streets running red with blood, her friends shrouded in gunfire, and of course Enjolras himself at the head of the charge. The very image was so terrifying and beautiful that she could hear her breath catch. Her hand found his wrist as she met his questioning look again. "I've had to fight for everything good in my life. This means so much more."

Enjolras was silent for a long moment as he regarded her intently, as if trying to come to a decision. "I am aware of what you are capable of, but I do not think it would be...seemly for some of our comrades to find a woman in the ranks," he said seriously.

"Then I won't be in the ranks, but helping out somehow, and I don't just mean making bandages," Eponine said. "You need someone who can go about, who knows his or her way through those streets and can get past the National Guard unnoticed. That's one useful thing for me."

"Your stubbornness knows no bounds, Eponine Thenardier."

"When have you ever known me to be anything different?"

Enjolras' lips quirked upwards briefly with wry amusement even as he opened the door wider. "You may pick a pistol to bring. We have to rendezvous with Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, and Pontmercy at the Rue de la Verrerie before going to the funeral."

"I'll make sure you will not regret this," she assured him as she stepped into the room. She saw a large pouch and four pistols all laid out on his desk. "You cannot carry  _all_  of them at once," she laughed. "I should bring more than one pistol. I have a cape that can help hide them."

At that exact moment a screech came from downstairs. "I can assure you, Messieurs, they are only simple young men here! No one is doing anything dangerous here!" the portress screeched.

Enjolras shouldered the bag of ammunition and tucked two of the pistols in his waistcoat pockets before picking up a double barrelled carbine from under his bed. Eponine snatched up the two other pistols and hid them in her cape. ' _If only we had a rope!'_ she couldn't help thinking but now they had no choice but to make do with climbing out the window. Enjolras made his way down first in order to catch Eponine when it was her turn to climb out. From here they rushed down the alley, then turned at the first by-way they found, and then once more at another. In their flight they did not dare to speak to each other or look about, but only followed each other's signs and glances.

In this roundabout fashion they finally reached the Pont de la Tournelle, crossed the Ile Saint Louis, and arrived at the Quai des Ornes. "Can we still go into Les Halles? I am sure the gendarmes have already raided the place," Eponine asked as she and Enjolras stopped by a shaded area on the riverbank.

"We need to warn the other leaders," Enjolras said grimly. He checked his watch before turning to look at her. "I will go on to Saint-Merry, you must continue to the Rue de la Verrerie. We will meet along the procession's route at the Place Vendome."

Eponine nodded. "And what if they have already been betrayed?"

"Join the procession. You will know who to find there," he instructed. He clasped her shoulder. "Stay out of sight."

Eponine bit her lip before reaching up to adjust Enjolras' hat so that it better concealed his hair. "You too." She did not wait for his footsteps to fade before she bolted up the steps leading to the main road. ' _For all I know the address could have been turned into a trap by now,'_ she thought but she willed herself to ignore the burning feeling in her legs as she ran towards Courfeyrac's lodgings.

Suddenly she heard someone call her name from a corner of the boulevard and she turned to see Combeferre and Feuilly. Both of them were armed; Combeferre had several guns with him while Feuilly carried a sabre. "There you are! The most awful thing has happened!" she cried as she hurried to them.

"The police, yes," Combeferre said, shaking his head. "Have you seen Enjolras?"

"I was with him, and he said he's going to Saint-Merry," Eponine replied breathlessly. "Where are Courfeyrac and Marius?"

"They headed towards the Place des Victoire," Feuilly said in an undertone. "Have you seen Victor?"

Eponine shook her head. "He knew?"

"He was able to warn us in time, but he left saying he was to find Bahorel and Prouvaire," Combeferre informed her. "I hope he hasn't been caught."

Eponine bit the inside of her cheek as she contemplated this situation. ' _Madame Fantine, how could you do such a thing?'_ she thought bitterly. "Enjolras will find us at the Place Vendome," she said at length.

"So will the others," Combeferre said gravely.

' _If there is anyone left,'_ Eponine thought even as she heard her stomach begin to growl. She reddened with embarrassment and looked down. "I haven't had breakfast,"

"It will be a while till the procession arrives there, so we can find something to eat along the way," Combeferre said amiably. Nevertheless this proved to be a task easier said than done, for many shops were closed, especially along the planned route of the procession. It was raining by the time the trio arrived at the Place Vendome, with only a few pieces of bread between them as a modest repast. It was another hour till they at last saw the funeral cortege rounding the column in this square.

The crowd was slowly swelling, but even so Eponine could not resist looking about for any sign of trouble-an agent, a gesture, or even a gun in the wrong place. Even when Enjolras finally rejoined them, she still could not quash this anxiety, more so when she saw him and Combeferre exchange a few grim words in a tone that made the situation plain. ' _And still we can't turn back,'_ Eponine found herself thinking even as she felt the weight of the pistols in her clothes.

She did not know for how long they walked with the procession all the way past the Palais Royal and the Hotel de Ville, all the way to the Place de la Bastille, and down the Boulevard Bourdon to the bridge of the Austerlitz, where the cortege finally halted. By this time Eponine saw Bahorel and Prouvaire in the crowd along with some other faces she recognized from previous meetings at the cafe. It was virtually impossible now for anyone to get near the hearse that was facing the Place Mazas, for the entire Boulevard Bourdon and even the adjoining side streets were so full of mourners and onlookers eager to listen to Lafayette's farewell for Lamarque.

Eponine quickly doffed her hat and stood on tiptoe in an attempt to get a better view of the goings-on at the bridge. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Enjolras also taking off his own hat, but as he did so he nodded to someone standing a little further way down the street. As Eponine followed his gaze she noticed a dark haired figure in a black dress also trying to get towards the boulevard. Eponine immediately broke away from her friends and rushed towards this familiar face. "Cosette! What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Cosette nearly started but she quickly regained her composure and grabbed Eponine's arm. "I have to warn Marius and the rest of you. The police are already on the watch for all of you," she whispered.

"We already know that!" Eponine hissed. "You have to go home before your mother comes looking for you here!"

Cosette shook her head. "Where's Marius?"

Before Eponine could answer a shout came from the bridge, where now there was a man on horseback, waving a red flag before him. Lafayette suddenly fell silent even as shouts of "Lafayette to the Pantheon! Lafayette to the Hotel de Ville!" started through the crowd. The throng suddenly seemed to shift forward towards the hearse as well as towards where Lafayette was being carried along the Quai de Morland to the Hotel de Ville. A squadron of dragoons was drawing towards the proession, apparently with the intent of checking the tide.

Eponine kept her grip on Cosette's arm even as they struggled to keep their footing in this crush. "You have to go now!" she pleaded, even as she cast a glance towards where Enjolras and Combeferre were now signalling to some other people in the crowd.

"No! There's something you have to know-" Cosette began before suddenly three shots pierced the air. A woman screamed even as one of the cavalrymen on the bridge suddenly fell off his horse.

"To the barricades!" shouted the crowd at the Boulevard Bourdon over the first crash of battle being joined.


	30. Chapter 30: Avenged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a graphic murder here

**Chapter 30: Avenged**

Eponine knew that she had to keep running or risk being trampled by the raging crowd. When she looked over her shoulder she saw Cosette standing on tiptoe and craning her neck as if searching for someone. "What are you doing?" Eponine shouted as she grabbed her friend. "We have to go!"

"I can't find Victor! He said he'd follow the procession too!" Cosette replied frantically.

"He's probably on the move too, as we should be!" Eponine retorted as she tightened her grip on Cosette's arm before they plunged into the fray. She could hear gunshots over the din of the crowd, even as the air was becoming heavy with the odor of impending rain, but the fury around them only seemed to grow more palpable with each passing second. She willed herself not to falter or stumble as she dragged Cosette towards where Enjolras, Combeferre, Feuilly, Prouvaire, and Bahorel were now with a group of men headed towards the Marche Saint-Jean.

Combeferre, who was standing nearest them, nearly started when he recognized Cosette. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to warn you," Cosette said once she'd caught her breath. "The police have already arrested some of the leaders and stolen some caches. Victor and I went about and heard that they're setting up outposts in different parts of Paris."

"We've already confronted that fact," Combeferre said. "You need to return home, Citizenness Fabre."

"Not till I find my brother," Cosette answered adamantly. "Where is he?"

"I sent him on to find Courfeyrac and Marius," Prouvaire confessed. "He found me and Bahorel in the middle of a quarrel with the gendarmes. He was safe when we last saw him."

Ahead of them Feuilly put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. "Come on! We must capture the outpost ahead of us!" he shouted before racing down the street towards the sound of fighting.

Eponine immediately rushed after him, but by the time she arrived at the square the guardsmen and gendarmes defending the outpost were already fleeing down the Rue de la Verrerie. She saw a sentry lying senseless near the outpost door, and so she lost no time in stealing up to him and divesting him of his keys. She could feel her fingers growing clammy as she forced the biggest key into the keyhole near her face but she managed to get the door open with a few jerky twists of the key.

Inside the outpost stank of urine and spilled brandy, and for a moment Eponine felt her stomach lurch at the stench. Nevertheless she quickly located several boxes of cartridges as well as six muskets. "There's so little for an outpost!" she remarked as she began handing out these finds to her companions.

"They have other caches elsewhere," Enjolras said, now making his appearance at the door of the outpost. He surveyed one of the muskets critically and set it aside, clearly deciding that his carbine was still more suited for the task at hand. Suddenly he looked up at the sound of paper being ripped off a wall. "Bahorel, what are you doing?"

"Turning loose the geese," Bahorel said enthusiastically as he held up what had been a notice from the Archbishop of Paris concerning mandatory prayers 'in a time of trouble such as cholera'.

"You should have left that notice alone," Enjolras pointed out. "That directive is none of our concern. Your energy is best directed elsewhere."

"Tyranny is tyranny," Bahorel sniffed. "Why a man in robes should dictate what forms people's petitions is anathema to my sensibilities."

In the meantime Eponine found an old dagger among some pikes, and slipped out to hand this to Cosette. "I hope you won't need it," she said as she closed her friend's fingers around the handle.

Cosette nodded nervously. "What about you? You've never fired a gun before," she said, gesturing to the pistols Eponine was carrying.

"Better a pistol's butt than my bare hands!" Eponine said. She saw that the rest of the marchers were headed to the Rue de la Verrerie, so she grabbed Cosette's wrist again to pull her along. ' _It's our best chance of finding Courfeyrac, Monsieur Pontmercy, and Victor,'_ she decided silently. It was raining now but the crowd still continued undeterred towards Saint-Merry.

They had not gone very far when suddenly a voice hailed them from down the road. "There you are, Enjolras!" Courfeyrac hollered.

"About time, my friend," Enjolras said, nodding as well to Marius and Victor. All three of these newcomers were armed. "Any news from the rest?"

"Still rallying the troops," Marius replied. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Cosette. "No! You shouldn't be here!"

"I have to warn you," Cosette said, meeting his gaze. "The police have found out what everyone will be doing. They have agents waiting at every turn."

' _But not Madame Fantine,'_ Eponine thought. She could never imagine this woman heading into the fray. "Have you seen any of them?"

"Only that Perrot," Victor replied, saying the inspector's name as if it were a curse. "He was last seen at the Bastille."

"May he stay there," Enjolras said, tightening his grip on his gun.

Marius in the meantime had clasped Cosette's arms. "Please my love, you should leave."

"Not without my brother," Cosette insisted. "I ought to take you with me too and Eponine as well."

"Which wouldn't simply happen!" Eponine retorted. How could she dare to leave and return to the safety of Issy at this time? ' _I promised I wouldn't be alone when I returned, and I have to see this through,'_ she resolved.

They marched further on, past Saint-Merry and now suddenly on the Rue Saint-Denis. "The more forts, the better!" Victor crowed when he saw where they were.

"Ahoy there!" a voice shouted from the direction of the Rue de Chanvrerie. Everyone turned to see Bossuet waving from the window of Corinthe. "Where are you going?"

"To build a barricade!" Courfeyrac hollered.

"Right here!"

Enjolras nodded and at this signal everyone rushed towards the bistro. On seeing the fighters, as well as still more recruits coming from the Rue Mondetour and adjacent streets, Mme. Hucheloup, who'd been standing near the doorway, nearly fainted away. In a matter of minutes every housefront and shop was stripped, the street was unpaved, and casks had been brought up from the wineshop's basement to form part of the fortification outside Corinthe.

Despite Marius' entreaties, Cosette made her way to the kitchen of the wineshop. "Eponine and I shall work here," she said, unrolling her own cape to reveal yards upon yards of bandages.

Mme. Hucheloup, who'd taken refuge here, was aghast. "This is no place for you girls!"

"You're right. This is no place for us, but other ideas would be worse," Eponine said. After a while she found that the work of preparing bandages was impossible for her, especially with the ruckus going on outside. "I shall be back," she said as she stood up, making sure to snatch up both her pistols. She noticed Grantaire dozing on the stairs, and she carefully sidestepped him on her way out. She saw now that the rampart on the Rue de Chanvrerie was at least the height of a man; she herself could scale it in a matter of seconds. Enjolras, Feuilly, Combeferre and several others were heading the construction of this, placing barrels, paving stones and other pieces of furniture in a formidable looking jumble. There was a smaller barricade being built, to block off the Rue Mondetour. Eponine cast a glance towards where the flag was now being run up on the larger barricade, and then went to join the group erecting the smaller fortification.

This barricade was partially concealed by the wineshop and some adjoining houses, and those building it had to walk a little way to find materials. Eponine found a large cask in a corner and was in the process of dislodging it when suddenly she heard the crack of a boot on stone. She wheeled around only in time to be caught by a burly man in the garb of a stevedore or porter. Before she could yell or raise her knee to kick this man, she was thrown against the barrel she'd been moving and pinned there with a hand around her throat. She heard the ominous click of a pistol and felt the cold metal against her stomach. Suddenly her hand found something hard and before she knew it she'd smashed one of her pistols against the side of this man's head. Her assailant cursed before falling to the ground, bleeding profusely from a gash above his temple. He moaned for a second or two before twitching and finally going still.

"Eponine!" She turned to see Enjolras walking up briskly to her. The young man paled at the scene before him. "What happened?"

Eponine put a hand to her throat, feeling gingerly for any sign of injury. "He tried to kill me," she managed to say.

Enjolras' eyes grew dark on seeing the pistol in this man's hand. He nodded to some of the men accompanying him. "Search the body."

"You don't have to, Enjolras," Eponine said in an undertone, even as she willed herself not to shake or even to grab his hand for support. She'd seen those dark eyes before, felt those hands on her person, and even heard that step. "I know him."

"Who?"

"The man who almost killed me, and also killed my mother. Indirectly."

Enjolras gritted his teeth. "Claquesous?"

Eponine nodded. It was only now that she truly saw her assailant's face: broad, square-jawed, unmarked and livid now even in its lifeless form.  _'The sort of man who'd definitely slip away easily,'_ she realized as she and Enjolras returned to the main rampart.


	31. Chapter 31: The Death of Innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for character death

**Chapter 31: The Death of Innocence**

Although Claquesous had attempted his final misdeed in relative secrecy, the fact soon became known in that redoubt where it was impossible to keep a secret. ' _Now it has every man watching every man even here,'_ Eponine realized grimly as she returned to where Cosette had finished setting up the infirmary. "So you really mean to stay?" she asked her best friend in a whisper.

"For as long as I can. You're here, so is my brother, and so is Marius," Cosette said adamantly. "And what about your sister?"

"Safe in Issy," Eponine replied, feeling relieved that she could now divulge this. "We've been staying in a small house there, and earning our keep."

"Shouldn't you be with her?" Cosette asked.

"I promised I'd be back," Eponine said. ' _I never go back on my word if I can help it,'_ she thought as she sat down and rubbed her neck. "When you and Monsieur Pontmercy get married, you know now where to send word," she said.

A deep blush crossed Cosette's face. "He hasn't asked!"

"Not yet!"

"I think if he ever does, we'll have to run. Maman will never allow us to marry, not after this!"

Eponine burst out giggling at this. "How scandalous of  _you_ , Cosette!" she teased in a mock-dramatic voice, flinging her hand to her forehead amid the laughter of Mme. Hucheloup and some of the others nearest the table.

Cosette stuck out her tongue reprovingly. "You're going to have to run too when you and Monsieur Enjolras marry," she pointed out.

"He hasn't asked and I s'pose it will be his parents we'll be running from and not my father," Eponine replied. ' _Of course, how can he think of such things at this time?'_ she thought as she checked the guns and ammunition she'd carried to the barricade. It was difficult to do so in the flickering shadows of the bistro; for the sake of secrecy only a few lanterns and candles were being used on both floors. Even so the darkness made everything stand out more clearly for Eponine. She could smell the acrid tang of metal from a corner where some men were moulding bullets, readying them for their comrades who were chatting while cleaning what muskets, carbines, and other weaponry they'd managed to acquire. As she passed by them, she noticed a familiar figure wiping his hands. "Father Mabeuf?"

The former churchwarden looked up. "Mademoiselle Thenardier."

Eponine looked about, wondering if anyone else had recognized him. She knew that he was no stranger to Courfeyrac and Marius. "Do you mean to fight too?"

He did not answer but continued wiping his hands. "You should bring your brother home," he said after a few long moments.

"My..." she trailed off even as she followed his gaze to where Victor and Bahorel were exchanging jokes. "You've always known?"

A ghost of a smile flitted over Mabeuf's face. "Victor was always more like you than Mademoiselle Cosette there. Never in one place at once."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"The Fabres have always been kind. What good would it have done?"

' _Sometimes too kind,'_ Eponine thought. She realized now that no gun or pike rested near Mabeuf's feet, and he kept his fists clenched in his lap. "How can you fight then?"

"With what I have left," he muttered before looking down. "Whatever is left."

She swallowed hard but before she could speak another word she heard Jean Prouvaire's voice murmuring over those of his friends seated in a corner. " _Do you remember our sweet life, when we were both so young, and when we had no other desire in our hearts than to be well dressed and in love?" When, by adding your age to my age, we could not count forty years between us, and when, in our humble and tiny household, everything was spring to us even in winter."_

Eponine closed her eyes, revelling in the feel of these familiar verses on her lips. " _The passers-by thought that love bewitched had wedded, in our happy couple, the gentle month of April to the fair month of May. We lived concealed, content, with closed doors, devouring love, that sweet forbidden fruit. My mouth had not uttered a thing when thy heart had already responded_." She opened her eyes to see Cosette and Marius now seated together, clasping each other's hands while Cosette rested her head on Marius' shoulder. It was a sight so lovely and incongruous in this redoubt, to the point that Eponine found herself wishing that her friends would simply stand up and leave. She picked up her pistols again and quitted the bistro in order to climb the rampart where Enjolras was standing watch, under the red flag which fluttered slightly in the gentle summer breeze.

He nodded to her by way of tacit acknowledgment when she sat next to him. "Is everything ready?"

"I s'pose so," she replied. For a while she was content with staying silent as they watched the street for any sign of either attackers or reinforcements. The sun was setting fast now, but none of the houses on the Rue de Chanvrerie put out any lamps to combat the lengthening shadows. After a while she saw him check his pocketwatch, even as the tocsin sounded from Saint-Merry. "You'll be busy once the fighting is done," she said after a moment. "So many people will be looking to you."

"Others as well. We are not the only group in Paris, and certainly not in France," he replied. "What will you do?"

"See Azelma of course," Eponine said lightly. She tried to imagine her sister now at Issy, perhaps watching the road for her return. ' _Not too long ago you were also with us, having dinner and telling us of the news,'_ she thought as she watched Enjolras. Had it only been a few months ago when they had wandered through Paris together, when they had gone to the Cours de la Reine, and had talked at length in this same bistro? She could feel her cheeks grow pleasantly warm as she remembered the afternoons at the Rue Ferou when he'd visited her while she was recovering from her injuries. ' _And if I'd gone with you, on the day that Azelma was almost married, would we still be here?'_ she wondered.

She looked at him in time to catch his eye and see a slight smile grace his lips. "You should see us in Issy," she told him. "If not, we can come back to Paris, to stay."

"Back to your father?" he asked worriedly.

She shook her head. "I s'pose that Azelma and I will find some way to do things together. Maybe we'll work as seamstresses, or in bookshops, maybe we'll be at a cafe. Maybe we'll start something new," she said confidently. It was surprisingly easy to picture such a busy idyll, though of course Eponine knew it would not be easy to keep. ' _But surely more bearable than if Zelma had married Verdier,'_ she reflected.

"You will do so much more," Enjolras observed, looking her now in the face.

"How would you know?"

"You have not turned back."

Eponine smiled at this roundabout compliment even as she heard footsteps from within the bistro. She turned to see Victor climbing up to them. "What's new?"

Victor stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Trouble," he said before bending to whisper something in Enjolras' ear. "You have to come right away."

"Are you sure?" Enjolras asked.

"Cosette recognizes him too. I'm sure Ponine would also," Victor said.

"It's not Perrot, is it?" Eponine inquired tentatively as she and Enjolras clambered down the barricade and followed Victor back to the bistro.

"Bigger fish," Victor said, signifying this further with a salute.

' _Who could it be?'_ Eponine wondered as she went to where Cosette and Marius were talking in hushed voices. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Victor says there's something?"

Cosette nodded and signed quickly towards one of the tables. "You've seen him before too, at a wedding that almost was."

' _Now this should be easy,'_ Eponine thought as she glanced towards where there was a large man seated in a corner, away from the dim glow of the lamps and the forge. He was in the garments of a porter, but there was something about his lean face that sent a chill through her. She cocked her head to get a better look and swallowed hard, realizing where she'd seen him before. ' _Under daylight, in church, he looks worse indeed,'_ she noted. She saw that four other men had positioned themselves behind the table, so as not to attract the attention of this character of interest. The bistro was crowded, now that people had sensed that some new debacle was afoot. As she stood on tiptoe to get a better view she saw Enjolras take a step forward from this crowd. He glanced almost imperceptibly in her direction and she nodded to him by way of confirmation.

Enjolras crossed his arms as he stood in front of the table. "Who are you?"

The mysterious man looked up coolly. "I see what it is. Well, yes!"

"You are a police spy?" Enjolras asked more slowly.

The man sat up straighter. "I am an agent of the authorities."

"And your name?"

"Javert."

A sickening thud sounded through the room as the men standing around the table grabbed Javert and flung him to the floor. In a few moments they had emptied Javert's pockets, yielding a police card with the signature of Prefect Gisquet, some coins, and his watch. Victor immediately seized the inspector's fob and extricated a folded paper there, which he handed to Enjolras. The student read this note for a moment before setting it aside and looking to Javert, who was now being tied to a post. "You will be shot ten minutes before the barricade is taken."

"Why not at once?" Javert asked.

"We are saving our powder," Enjolras retorted.

"Then finish it with a knife."

"We are judges, not assassins."

Javert smiled humourlessly at the group. "All of you?"

Cosette went pale at this while Victor would have launched himself at the inspector if Eponine had not been quick to seize his arm. "Don't let on!" she warned him.

Suddenly the wineshop door creaked open and one of the sentries made a furtive sign even as the sound of distant marching filled the air. In a few moments almost everyone had quit the cafe taproom; six men led by Feuilly went up to the second floor to act as sharpshooters, while the rest of the men went out to the large barricade. Eponine looked to where Cosette was waiting at the infirmary door, shook her head and slipped out to the wineshop's door. "You'll need me here," she called over her shoulder. "Someone has to keep the door open."

Cosette motioned for her to be quiet. "Where's Victor?"

Eponine looked about and saw Victor pushing his way to the top of the rampart, ignoring the reproving looks and protestations of the other fighters. She brought out one of her pistols, ready to shoot at the first soldier or guardsman who dared to set foot near the wineshop door. She held her breath as she heard the marching coming nearer, stopping now almost at the rampart.

"Who goes there?" a voice barked.

Enjolras' voice was clear even over the ominous clicking of muskets. "The French Revolution!"

"Fire!"

The roar of one gun after another was deafening, and Eponine thought she would choke as the burning reek of gunsmoke filled the air. Suddenly an agonized scream came, not from the area of the large barricade but from the smaller rampart at the Rue Mondetour. Eponine quickly shot at a pair of guardsmen rushing towards the bistro, but before she could reload her pistols she was besieged on all sides. She threw her body against the doorway in an effort to impede the attackers while she tried to shut the heavy door. For a moment she thought she would be overpowered, until she heard Cosette, Feuilly, and everyone else in the wineshop rush towards the taproom to help repel this attack. In those seconds Eponine managed to reload one pistol and fire at another guardsman before using this firearm as a clumsy club against a fourth.

To her horror, as she saw this man go down, she glimpsed a slight figure sprawled a few feet away, having just been felled by an officer's bayonet. "Victor!" she screamed as she sprang on the officer, making every effort to wrest the weapon out of his grip. The guardsman flung her to the ground as well but before he could make his killing blow, a report sounded through the air and he jerked twice before collapsing into the mud.

Eponine took a deep breath before she grabbed Cosette's proffered hand to help her to her feet. "I'm sorry, Cosette."

"Don't be. Help me get him inside," Cosette managed to say in a choked voice. By now the sounds of battle were dying down as the attackers fled over the din of the insurgents making a fuss over a powderkeg that Marius had somehow brought onto the rampart. Yet Cosette looked away as she knelt at Victor's side. "Victor? Victor!" she whispered. "Can you hear me?"

The boy groaned as he tried to look at Cosette and Eponine. "Did you get him?"

Cosette nodded even as she was trying to hold back tears. "We're safe now."

Victor grinned weakly at this before biting the back of his hand. Seeing this, Eponine carefully arranged Victor's torn shirt over the gaping wound in his midsection before helping Cosette lift him. The boy winced and gasped but did not cry out as he was carried into the wineshop.

All order that had once been here was now dispelled as the dead were laid on one side, and the wounded on another. Eponine helped Cosette set Victor down on a makeshift pallet before running to where Joly was tending to a man who'd taken a hard blow to the head. The medical student started on seeing her. "Who?" he asked.

"Victor," Eponine said, grabbing Joly by the sleeve of his coat. "It's bad, very bad."

Joly looked down at his patient to check his head wound before patting this man's shoulder and following Eponine. By this time Marius, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras were sitting by Victor. Courfeyrac was trying to soothe the injured boy while Marius had an arm around Cosette's shoulders. Joly motioned for all of them to give him some room. He swallowed hard as he surveyed Victor's pale face and took his pulse. "The wound is deep," he said worriedly as he began trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Through and through," Victor gasped as he and grabbed Eponine's wrist. "Don't tell Maman."

"I won't," Eponine said. It was a vain promise; there was no way she could keep this from Fantine, but she could not voice this reality out. "I won't tell since you'll get better."

Victor did not seem to hear this but he looked to Cosette and Marius, and smiled before nodding to them. Cosette held back a sob before kissing his forehead and whispering something in his ear. A last smile spread over Victor's face before he took one last breath and then went still.

Eponine shook her head, trying to will away this sight but the smell of blood and the sounds of weeping were all too clear for her. She reached over to help Enjolras close Victor's unseeing eyes. "Goodbye, little brother," she murmured. ' _I wanted to bring you back with me too,'_ she would have said but she bit her lip hard even when she felt Enjolras' hand rest against her own for a brief moment.

Cosette sat up and looked at her friends. "Why didn't any of you protect him?" she hissed.

"We were attacked from both sides. He was trying to protect  _you_ ," Courfeyrac replied. "He was standing between the National Guard and the door."

"Why was he alone?"

"We were all trying to get there," Enjolras reasoned. "The barricade would have been overrun if not for the powderkeg," he added, glancing at Marius.

Cosette shook her head. "Please go. Leave us alone."

Eponine swallowed hard, knowing better than to argue with Cosette. "I'll be helping the others," she informed her friend as she got to her feet. She moved to let Marius sit closer to Cosette and clasp her hand. Cosette pushed him away but then happened to look at his stricken face for one moment before murmuring an apology and burying her face in his shirt.

Joly wiped his eyes before looking at Eponine. "I'm sorry, Eponine."

"You tried," Eponine managed to say before following him to help tend to the remaining wounded while Enjolras and Courfeyrac called the roll. As she passed by the line of the dead, she felt as if the wind had suddenly been taken out of her, for there lay Mabeuf, who'd been so alive and grim earlier , as well as Bahorel. ' _Goodbye to you too now,'_ she thought, feeling pained that she would never hear her old friend's laughter again.

She looked to Javert, who was drinking with some help from Jean Prouvaire. She had the urge to snatch the small cup of water out from the poet's hands and throw it in Javert's face, till she saw that Prouvaire's eyes were also red-rimmed. "I'm sorry about Bahorel. I remember that you were neighbours," she said.

Prouvaire nodded. "I'm sorry also about your brother. He was too young for this."

"It never could stop him," Eponine answered. There was something comforting yet hollow about being able to acknowledge Victor as her brother at this time. ' _It was everyone's biggest secret though,'_ she thought as she wiped her eyes and steeled herself to her work.


	32. Chapter 32: We Who Lie, We Who Fight

**Chapter 32: We Who Lie, We Who Fight**

As soon as the dead were already carefully laid out and the wounded treated, an uneasy peace finally came to the redoubt of the Rue de Chanvrerie, ' _It's not an idle waiting though,'_ Eponine thought as she struggled to load both her pistols. She gritted her teeth as she carefully tipped the bullets into the guns, all the while wondering how her friends could manage this feat in a matter of seconds. After checking her armaments, she tiptoed past Cosette and Mme. Hucheloup, who were both asleep at a table. The taproom was eerily quiet; only a few men such as Grantaire dared to sleep here, and the only man awake was Javert, who was still tied to the post. Everyone else was outside, taking stock of what ammunition they had left, or chatting among themselves while passing around some bottles of wine. Marius was writing furiously in a pocketbook, occasionally glancing to where Courfeyrac was sitting with Jean Prouvaire, whose eyes were swollen and red from weeping. Combeferre and Joly were checking on the wounded while Feuilly was scratching a line on the wall. She looked towards the darkened street, and noticed a glimmer of light just above the houses. ' _Almost dawn,'_ she realized.

She took a seat next to Bossuet, who promptly handed her a half full bottle of wine. "It's not as good a companion unfortunately," he said. "Enjolras just went on reconnaissance, if you want to know."

Eponine sighed, feeling a little cross that he hadn't told her that he was going out, even if for a little while. "I wonder what he'll find."

"Who knows?" Bossuet said. His expression was grim as he plucked at a loose string of his coat. "I wonder what the people at the morgue will think when they find us," he said. "Here is the Eagle of Meaux, after a wrong landing."

She snorted as she hugged her knees to her chest. "At least you'll be remembered as something." She bit her lip as she tried to imagine her own epitaph. ' _It will probably depend on what Azelma or the rest make for me,'_ she decided before shaking her head to clear away this grim thought and then taking a healthy swig out of the bottle.

Suddenly a startled shout came from the direction of the Rue Mondetour. "Don't shoot!" a woman's voice cried from the shadows.

Eponine sprang to her feet and pushed past Bossuet to where a group of men had accosted Fantine and M. Fabre. She almost started at the sight of M. Fabre in the garb of the National Guard, until he handed over his gun to Marius. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out.

"I'm here for my children. Where are they?" Fantine asked. She was haggard and pale, and her normally carefully arranged hair was dishevelled. In fact she seemed almost wild and furious as she stepped towards Eponine. "Where are Cosette and Victor?"

"Maman!" Cosette cried as she ran from the wineshop's entrance and flung herself into her mother's arms. "I'm so sorry!"

Fantine suddenly stilled at Cosette's words. "What do you mean? Where is your brother?" She pulled Cosette closer to her even as her eyes began to search the crowd. "Where is my son?"

Eponine cast an anguished look at Enjolras, who she had spotted finally returning from his reconnaissance. The young man's grim expression grew grave and suspicious when he saw who'd just arrived at the barricade. "How is it that you know of our whereabouts?" he asked the newcomers. "We've already caught one spy and dealt with another. Choose your answer carefully."

"We're not here as spies," Fantine said. She looked around once more and her eyes widened with a look of shocked understanding. "No. You don't mean..." She stuffed her fist in her mouth as if to muffle a sob. "Where is he?" she asked.

"He's in the taproom," Combeferre said gently as he stepped forward.

Fantine managed a nod before gripping M. Fabre's arm as they followed Combeferre, Enjolras, Cosette, and Marius into the bistro. Eponine followed them after a moment, but she only made it as far as the doorway.  _'I cannot intrude,'_ she reminded herself as she saw Fantine and M. Fabre fall to their knees beside Victor's still form. Yet all the same she felt hot tears springing to her eyes even when she turned away so no one would see her crying.

Suddenly she heard Fantine getting to her feet. "Who did this?" the woman demanded. "Who of you brought him to this place?"

"He was not  _brought_  here, he came here himself!" Eponine retorted as she turned around to face Fantine. "Maybe  _my brother_  would still be alive if you hadn't gone up to the police!"

Fantine blanched at these words. "That is not true!"

"I know what you did!" Eponine yelled. She could not stop the words now from leaving her lips even as she took a step forward, shaking away Enjolras' attempt to hold her back with a hand on her arm. "If you hadn't been telling the police everything all these months, things would be different! Maybe my Maman would still be alive too!"

Fantine's eyes widened with shock and anger as she crossed her arms. "You don't understand a thing, Eponine. Not a single thing!"

"Maman, Eponine, please stop," Cosette suddenly said. Her voice was soft but still clear in this redoubt. "It's not going to bring anyone back."

Eponine gritted her teeth as she met her best friend's still wan gaze. ' _Why must you always be right?'_ she raged silently as she looked from M. Fabre, who had yet to break his solemn silence, to Cosette, Marius, and the rest of their friends. Before she could say anything, she heard a cough from where Javert was still tied up in the middle of the room.

"The girl is right," he said. A trace of pity flickered across his face, which grew imperious once more as he regarded this crowd. "I am sorry for your loss."

At the sound of Javert's voice, M. Fabre's face grew as white as a sheet, while Fantine stilled. The inspector regarded them for a few more moments before a humourless smile spread across his face. "I could think of better ways to renew an acquaintance."

Marius looked confusedly from Javert to the Fabres. "You know each other?"

"The question may be more of do you really know  _them_?" Javert replied. "This is some revolution you have here, with convicts, spies, and thieves in your ranks."

"You have said enough," Enjolras said firmly. He looked sternly at the older Fabres. "There is a little food and some wine left in the kitchen. You may rest there for a few minutes," he said, quietly signing for someone to keep a watch on the older Fabres. He looked to Combeferre and Marius, who nodded gravely before following him outside.

Cosette rushed to Eponine and grabbed her arm. "You have to leave the barricade. I'm sure that my mother will find a way."

Eponine raised an eyebrow. "And what of you and Pontmercy?"

"I'll try to convince him..." Cosette trailed off even as anguish filled her eyes. She swallowed hard as she tried to compose herself. "Azelma is still waiting for you at Issy."

"It will not be enough. You know that."

"You cannot convince M. Enjolras to leave!"

' _Who says that I have to convince him?'_ Eponine thought even as she heard the distant rumble of artillery fire over the grim cheering and chatter at the redoubt. She turned at the sound of the door opening, this time to admit Enjolras, Feuilly, and a few other men carrying paving stones, timbers, and guns to further fortify the bistro's second storey.

"Something new?" Eponine asked Enjolras. "Did you get as far as Saint-Merry?"

"Yes, and it is one of two barricades left. We are the other," Enjolras replied. His smile was wry as he met her gaze again. "Are you so intent on staying?"

"I promised to be useful, and you haven't asked me to do much yet," Eponine replied.

"If I asked you to leave this place, would you do it?"

"I would have to defy you again there, and not be sorry for it this time."

Enjolras chuckled humourlessly at this quip before nodding to Cosette. "It would be advisable for you to leave with your family."

Cosette shook her head. "I'm not going without Marius or Eponine." She took a deep breath before looking at Eponine. "I've decided. You can't tell me to do otherwise."

Before Eponine could protest, she saw M. Fabre emerge from the kitchen. He cleared his throat to catch Enjolras' attention. "May I ask a favor?"

Enjolras nodded grimly. "What is it?"

M. Fabre gestured to Javert. "Allow me to blow that spy's brains out myself!"

Enjolras glanced from Javert to M. Fabre and nodded slowly as if coming to a decision. He handed over a pistol, the last he brought with him from his lodgings. "Be quick about it. You may bring him to the Rue Mondetour."

"Grandfather..." Cosette trailed off in a horrified whisper as she stepped aside to allow Combeferre and Prouvaire to untie Javert from the post.

"It has to be done. I'm sorry," M. Fabre said, taking hold of the rope that was still looped around the spy's wrists. No one dared to stand in their way as they left the bistro, with M. Fabre walking solemnly even as Javert held his head high. After a few minutes a single shot rang through the air. M. Fabre soon reappeared and put the pistol down on the table. "It is done."

Fantine went pale. "Monsieur Jean, did you really..." she began but M. Fabre turned away to begin helping a wounded insurgent who was begging for water. Before she could make another effort, a second shot, followed by another, pierced the quiet. "Good God!"

"They're coming from both sides!" Feuilly hollered from the second storey. "There's a cannon too at the Rue Mondetour!"

"Everyone outside!" Enjolras ordered. He looked to Eponine and clasped her arm firmly. "Find a way out. The others such as the Fabres will need it."

"You will too," she insisted. It was all too clear on her what he had planned, and what he wanted to come out of it. "You'll be killed if you're captured. Shot."

"That is only one of many possibilities," Enjolras said. "Go now."

Eponine nodded before pulling him to her so she could kiss his cheek. "Say what you will, Enjolras, but I'm coming back for you. You'll see!" she whispered in his ear before pushing him away. She did not allow herself a last look at him but instead ran to the kitchen door to help Cosette and Fantine pull it open enough to create an aperture large enough for a man to squeeze through.

"Where shall we go?" Fantine asked as soon as they and a few others had made it through the opening.

"Whichever way you came, since that ought to be the safest," Eponine replied breathlessly. She knew little of the back streets surrounding the Rue de Chanvrerie, but she was certain that dashing through these shadows, perhaps in the general direction of the Rue del'Homme Arme, was far better than heading towards Saint-Merry or the Tuilieries. She looked around at the five wounded men who'd followed them. "Where is Monsieur Fabre?"

"Gone, and Marius too!" Cosette whispered. "We have to go back for them. Maman, please, you know we can't leave them behind!"

Fantine cast an anguished glance at the redoubt. "I'll go. You girls head straight to the Rue del'Homme Arme, and wait for me there."

"Maman-" Cosette began.

"Listen to me, please," Fantine said. She kissed her daughter's head, almost as if she were a little girl once more. "I'll be fine, and so will your grandfather. You and Eponine have to get as far away from here as you can."

Cosette looked as if she might weep but she nodded and hugged Fantine tightly. "I'm so sorry, Maman. I'm sorry about everything," she murmured.

"I should be the one apologizing," Fantine said. She sighed as she finally looked at Eponine. "Take care of each other, please."

"We will," Eponine said before grabbing her friend's arm to steer her down the darkened alley. She could still feel the weight of her newly loaded pistols in her clothes as she and Cosette hurried with their companions through the labyrinthine streets, taking care to move in the most deserted thoroughfares they could find. The sun was now high above the horizon and the shadows were diminishing, but the fugitives still ran, up until they reached the Rue del'Homme Arme.

As soon as they were inside, Cosette drew the drapes and locked the doors. "How are we going to come back for them?"

"Not till the tocsin has rung itself out," Eponine replied, gesturing to the windows. Even from this far away they could hear the alarm being raised at Saint-Merry, rallying the National Guard for the final attack on the barricades. She did not want to imagine what Enjolras, Marius and the rest would be seeing then. "You get a doctor. I should be the one to go back."

"Alone?" Cosette asked, her eyes widening with horror.

"I know my way about," Eponine said. She handed her guns over to Cosette. "Keep these."

"How will you defend yourself?"

"I have hands and feet, don't I?"

"Oh you're mad, so mad, Ponine," Cosette whispered. "What shall I do if you don't come back?"

"Go to Issy," Eponine said before quitting the house. She liked to believe that somehow, Azelma and Cosette would manage to take care of things, even if left to their own devices. ' _It's absurd but it's the only way I can imagine things now,'_ she thought as she started back towards the Rue de Chanvrerie. Now she cared nothing for stealth, not when she could no longer banish the feeling that the battle's outcome had been decided.  _'Let me find someone. Just one person, please,'_ she begged silently as she finally rushed onto the Rue Mondetour.

She shuddered on seeing the red cobblestones under her feet. Over here, the dead from both sides of the combat had been lined up. To her consternation, Javert was nowhere in sight. ' _Surely M. Fabre could not have led him so far off!'_ she realized. Perhaps some less squeamish comrade of his had taken the effort to carefully set the inspector's body aside.

She willed herself not to look towards the large barricade of the Rue de Chanvrerie; from afar she could see that the center had been demolished entirely, and corpses were now sprawled over where paving stones and timber had once been. The very sight of a once well kept hat now stained crimson was enough to make her stomach turn. ' _I knew most of you,'_ she thought as she raced into the wineshop. "Enjolras! Marius! Monsieur Fabre! Madame Fantine!" she called into the darkness. Yet all she could hear was the steady dripping of water from some leak in the back of the shop, mingling with the hollow sound of the rising summer breeze.

It was all she could do not to stumble as she searched through the torn premises, hoping desperately for any sign of life from anyone, no matter if it was friend or foe.  _'Maybe it would be better to be found here,'_ she thought as she remembered her last conversation with Bossuet. Yet she willed herself to banish this thought; it would not do to die when there were still people waiting.

She reached the staircase of Corinth and found still more corpses here, all the way up to the second floor. Among them was Grantaire who was still clutching a bottle but this time it was broken.  _'As if he made an effort,'_ she realized. She looked up, wondering how to scale the stairs when she heard a thud from someplace in the shadows. She looked towards this sound and caught the tell-tale flash of golden hair matted with blood.

Eponine rushed over and clasped this person's arms to pull this unfortunate to safety. "You knew I would come back," she whispered, wondering if her words would be more than enough to will a friend back to the world of the living.


	33. Chapter 33: Accountability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for character death and outright violence.

**Accountability**

Fantine could not wait for the girls' footsteps to fade before she rushed back to the Rue de Chanvrerie. ' _I only need a minute, please!'_ she prayed silently, even as she remembered all the other occasions when she had been denied of this middling grace. She could feel her eyes stinging as she neared the smoke and fire of the redoubt, and she had to stop at a corner to wipe her tears.  _'I wish I'd been there, Victor,'_ she thought as she sank down in the shadow of a silent house. She buried her face in her dirty skirt in an effort to muffle her sobs, but the sound was too loud in her ears anyway. ' _What did I do wrong? Why did you have to go?'_

Even so she already knew that she could not have done anything to hold back her foster son. ' _I raised him to be loyal,'_ she realized ruefully. Yet who was she to demand such unswerving dedication? She shut her eyes as she tried to imagine Victor as a child, running about with Cosette in the small rooms at the Estrapade or the garden at the Rue Plumet. Had that been so long ago?

The roar of the cannons in the distance broke through Fantine's reverie, prompting her to spring to her feet. She wiped her face with her sleeve before breaking into a run, heedless now of who might see her. At last she saw the alleyway leading to the wineshop; had she not traversed this way before she would have missed it entirely. As she squeezed her way back into the kitchen she heard the drums beating the charge, followed by the horrible tumult of gunfire, screams, and the sickening smack of flesh giving way under relentless blows. She now saw men rushing into the wineshop, among them Jean Valjean carrying Marius, who seemed to be on the verge of fainting.

Jean Valjean's eyes widened with horror when he saw Fantine. "I thought you went!" he whispered.

"I'm not leaving you," Fantine retorted. ' _After all these years, you think I ever could?'_ she realized as she helped Jean Valjean set Marius down in a corner. "What happened to him?"

"He was defending one end of the barricade," Jean Valjean replied before making a hand motion to signify a fall.

Fantine nodded on seeing that Marius was still breathing, and then looked around to see who else was still alive. ' _So few!'_ she thought, more so when she realized that Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, and Bossuet were absent, and that Joly was unconscious on a mat. Grantaire seemed to be just shaking himself awake, while Jean Prouvaire was trying to bandage his own arm. Enjolras was at the doorway, using his rifle as a cane to fend off the guardsmen attacking the men taking refuge in the wineshop.

After a few terrible seconds Enjolras slammed the door shut, with such force that the house seemed to shake. "Let us sell our lives dearly," he said as he surveyed the bedraggled group of insurgents. One of his eyebrows shot up with surprise when he saw that Fantine was there but he nodded to her almost imperceptibly. "The wounded will depart through the back. The rest of us will remain here, ready to cut the staircase," he said more loudly.

Jean Prouvaire looked to his friend. "Even me?"

"Only if you wish," Enjolras said seriously before training his gaze on Fantine, Jean Valjean, and Marius. "Go now. There is not a moment to lose."

' _What will I tell Eponine?'_ Fantine almost said but before she could voice this out the wineshop door cracked under a volley of rifle fire. She quickly helped Jean Valjean scoop up Marius to carry him out the back way, which Jean Prouvaire immediately stood in front of in order to conceal their escape. Each second seemed to be an eternity as Fantine and Jean Valjean tried to make their way down the alley, carrying Marius between them for the young man was too weak to walk on his own. "We'll be caught!" she whispered fearfully.

"Don't say such things!" Jean Valjean said desperately over the sound of cannonfire. "Not when I promised Cosette..."

"What?" Fantine asked even as she heard more gunfire from within the bistro they had just left. Over this a clear voice, that of Jean Prouvaire shouted, " _Long live France! Long live the future!"_ before being silenced by more musket fire.

Jean Valjean bowed his head. "That poor boy."

"I know," Fantine whispered, knowing now what Jean Prouvaire must have faced in his last moments. Knowing this was enough for her to will her feet to move, one step at a time till she, Jean Valjean, and Marius were nearly in the safety of a wide boulevard. "Now where to from here?"

"To the Prefecture, Madame Fabre," a voice replied coldly. Fantine and Jean Valjean turned to see Inspector Perrot standing between them and the end of the street. His uniform was fresh and clean, betraying the fact that he had not been in the fighting at all. He had a pistol in one hand, which he kept trained on the three escapees. "Your cooperation will be appreciated at this time, Madame."

"Monsieur, please let us go. We're only helping this poor young man return home," Fantine begged.

Perrot burst out laughing. "You make a perfect double agent, Madame. Of course with such practice harbouring criminals..." he said before stepping forward to seize Jean Valjean by his collar. "Javert told me who you are."

"How?" Fantine mouthed before meeting Jean Valjean's steady though resigned gaze as he gently set Marius down on the ground. "You didn't...everyone thinks you killed..."

"He was only doing his duty," Jean Valjean replied. He bowed before looking at Perrot. "Let her go, and the boy as well. He needs a nurse after his misadventure. He has family in the Marais."

"A bourgeois brat!" Perrot sneered, but even at that moment he seemed to be relenting as he looked at Marius. "You and I will make a reckoning of this, Madame Fabre. As for you, Valjean, your time is now," he added before brusquely pushing Jean Valjean forward.

For a moment all that Fantine saw was Perrot's rough hand clasped around Jean Valjean's collar, clearly intent on dragging him down the street. She felt bile surge in her stomach as she remembered how those cold fingers had gripped her arms and caressed her cheeks till she gave in and gave up everyone. Now that same hand was snatching away yet another person on this day of losses. ' _Enough!'_

Perrot yelled with surprise as Fantine grabbed him, tearing at his hair and forcing him to the ground. "You shameless hussy!" he roared as he tried to push her off. He managed to shove her to the cobblestones and he backhanded her across her face. "One more move and I'll arrest you too," he snarled as he bent over her. "This time there'll be no room for negotiations."

"You're right, Perrot," Fantine hissed even as she snatched the pistol he was ready to press against her face. Her fingers tightened on the trigger and the resulting report was almost deafening.

Jean Valjean caught Perrot as the man staggered backwards. "Fantine, what have you done?"

"What I should have," Fantine whispered, looking down at where Perrot was clutching his chest and writhing in agony. ' _If I'm to be damned for this, well I'll see you in hell,'_ she thought, resisting the urge to kick him. The angels would take care of Victor and the rest now.

She heard Marius groan softly from where he'd been set down. "Monsieur Fabre? Madame Fabre?"

"Yes. We're bringing you to your grandfather's," Jean Valjean said. "He'd be better cared for there."

Marius shook his head weakly. "Cosette-"

"Is safe," Fantine cut in. She clasped Jean Valjean's wrist. "We have to bring him with us. I know we have people at home already but I'd feel better knowing he was safe. Cosette would too."

Jean Valjean looked at her curiously. "Are you sure?"

Fantine nodded quickly. ' _I've kept them apart too long,'_ she thought even as she and Jean Valjean picked up Marius again. The boulevard was busy now with carriages, but they did not dare to take any fiacres until they were past the area of Saint Merry. When Jean Valjean hailed a carriage, it was all that Fantine could do not to cry with relief. ' _Please let us not be too late!'_ she thought as she stroked Marius' brow, seeing that he had fainted once again.

When they arrived at the Rue del'Homme Arme, they saw Cosette waiting at the apartment's gate, casting a nervous glance now and then back at the house, which was brightly lit. On seeing the fiacre she quickly threw the gate open. "Oh thank God!" she gasped, only to go pale when she saw Marius. "Oh no, is he..."

"He's alive. He needs a doctor," Jean Valjean replied.

"There's one inside. I called one for the men who left with us," Cosette said, gesturing to the house. "Have you seen Eponine? She said she was going back."

"Not a sign of her," Fantine said, now feeling pure horror well up in her stomach. She was fairly certain that Eponine would be right at the scene of the redoubt to retrieve Victor's body, and most likely Enjolras' as well. ' _What will the guardsmen do if they find her alone?'_ she wondered even as they carried Marius into the house and laid him on a pallet in the room that Jean Valjean had shared with Victor. She winced on seeing Marius' injuries; his left arm was broken, he had a nasty gash on his head and still more on his shoulders and back.  _'Anything is better than a bullet wound,'_ she decided even as she went to help make some bandages and lint for all their wounded charges.

Jean Valjean looked at a clock and shook his head. "She'd be far away from the barricade by now," he observed. "Doesn't she have other friends?"

"Musichetta," Fantine replied. She felt sick as she realized now that she would have to inform this woman about what had befallen Joly and Bossuet. ' _Don't these young men think of who they'll leave behind?'_ she wondered as she brought out more sheets and waited for the doctor to begin tending to Marius.


	34. Chapter 34: Finding

**Chapter 34: Finding**

As afternoon wore on, the rest of the wounded survivors save for Marius were able to quit the Rue del'Homme Arme. Yet much to Fantine and Cosette's dismay there was still no sign, or even word from Eponine. "We have to look for her, Maman. What if she's been arrested or shot?" Cosette whispered as they were fetching some water.

' _Or worse,'_ Fantine couldn't help thinking as she helped carry a bowlful of water into the small bedroom where Marius was dozing. The memory of Perrot's wandering hands sent a shudder up her spine but she willed herself to stay grounded and look her daughter in the face. "We'll go to the Prefecture. That might be a good place to begin."

Cosette shook her head as she picked up a washcloth and soaked it before putting it on Marius' forehead. "Maman, she'd never be there."

"Who else can go about the streets near the barricade without suspicion?" Fantine asked. ' _She would more likely be at the Rue Ferou though,'_ she thought as she began searching for a hat and shawl that would be appropriate for an afternoon walk. Yet was it possible for Eponine to have made it that far across the Seine, especially without a fiacre or any form of transportation?

As she threw on her shawl she noticed Jean Valjean walking up to the room hurriedly. "They're here," the gentleman said simply. "We need more bandages."

Fantine let out a sigh of relief while Cosette crossed herself. "Stay here and look after Marius. I'll help Eponine," she said. Never before had she been so happy to hear Jean Valjean say such a phrase which in other times would have sent them all packing. She grabbed an armful of bandages and made her way to the apartment's front room. She paused on seeing Jean Valjean assisting Eponine and Musichetta with dragging Enjolras onto the apartment's one couch, which had been pushed to the side earlier in the day to make room for pallets. ' _What could I possibly say to them now?'_ she wondered.

Musichetta looked up first and nodded curtly. She was clad in her usual gaily decked workdress but she had pinned a black ribbon to one of her sleeves. "Sorry for the intrusion Madame Fabre."

"It is I who should be apologizing," Fantine managed to say. "I'm sorry about all of this."

Musichetta sniffed. "You should be. You really should be."

Fantine swallowed hard and averted her gaze even as she stepped forward to help Eponine remove Enjolras' torn and dirtied coat and waistcoat. "How is he?" she asked.

Eponine tossed the ruined garments aside. "I'm surprised he's even still alive." She put a hand on Enjolras' chest as if to check for his heartbeat. "At least a little alive."

Fantine felt Jean Valjean's hand on her arm. "I'll fetch the doctor again for him. Cosette said that he doesn't live very far away," he said in an undertone.

"What if you're seen by the police?" Fantine asked.

Jean Valjean merely shrugged. "Better me than the rest of you," he said. "Perrot has a point that I am a man on the run."

"Perrot is dead but not Javert!" Fantine cried. She nearly flinched when she saw Jean Valjean's look grow grave. "Do you think anyone would know what-"

"I cannot be certain. That is why it has to be me," Jean Valjean said before putting on his hat and heading out into the still bright late afternoon.

Fantine balled up her hands into fists as she struggled to keep her composure. When she returned to the sofa she found the two young women setting out some bottles of salves and medications on a nearby table. "Are all of those yours?" she asked a little curiously.

"They were Patrice's," Musichetta said bitterly. "Eponine, really-"

"Chetta, please stay," Eponine said. "You know better than I do what to do about him. Monsieur Pontmercy is also here and wounded, and we need all the help too."

Musichetta rubbed her temples before nodding again. "For you. Just for you and Cosette then."

Fantine retreated to a seat a little away from the couch. "How did you arrive here?"

"With a heap of lies and good thinking," Eponine replied as she began wiping away the dried blood and dirt from a wound above Enjolras' left collarbone. She clucked her tongue when the young man flinched and groaned at the sting of water on his skin. "There, there. It's going to be fine. Stay with me," she whispered as she clasped his hand.

"She told the fiacre driver that she and Enjolras were Jondrettes," Musichetta remarked. "And that I was her cousin twice removed," she added more bemusedly.

"It was the best thing I could think of at that moment. I couldn't very well say that I was a Thenardier, or even Madame Enjolras," Eponine retorted.

Fantine couldn't help smiling a little as she tried imagining this scene. "Did anyone try to stop you?"

Eponine shook her head. "No one noticed." She quickly looked to where Cosette was now standing in the doorway. "How is Monsieur Pontmercy?"

"Trying to sleep. He doesn't know yet that the rest of us are here," Cosette said bravely. "What about everybody else?"

"The morgue. I saw the police cart," Eponine replied. "I don't know what they would have done if they had tried to move Enjolras and found him still breathing."

Fantine shuddered at this grisly idea before getting up to open the door and let in Jean Valjean, who had just returned with the doctor in tow. The physician sighed deeply when he saw who the newcomer was. "I take that his friends are gone?" he asked.

"Monsieur, you know him?" Fantine asked the doctor.

"His best friend Combeferre was one of my finest pupils. His other friend Joly-" he trailed off when he saw Musichetta. He reached over to clasp the grisette's shoulder. "My condolences, Mademoiselle."

Musichetta managed a nod before swiping at her eyes. "Give me a moment," she murmured before quitting the front room in favor of the back bedroom.

Fantine stepped away in order to let the doctor do his work, and motioned for Jean Valjean and Cosette to do the same; it was evident that Eponine was not about to move from her place near the sofa. "You should go in and help Musichetta," she told them.

"And what about you, Maman?" Cosette asked.

"I'll make supper. We'll eat a little early tonight," Fantine replied. ' _By dark it should be safe to go to the morgue,'_ she thought. She could not imagine how to steel herself to claim her foster son's remains, even if she had already seen them at the barricade. ' _I thought for a moment then that he might have been sleeping, if not for his wounds,'_ she thought as she began searching for ingredients to make soup.

She realized after a while that Jean Valjean was with her, but helping set out dishes and cutlery for the meal. "Do you think they'll make it?"

"They're strong young men," Jean Valjean answered. He wiped his hands with a tattered rag before speaking again. "One of them, Feuilly, is an orphan. We have to give him a burial too."

"How could you?"

"He deserves it too. Perhaps near Victor or one of his friends, if that's possible. "

' _Better than being unremembered,'_ Fantine decided. She knew that this would have been her fate had she never left Montreuil-sur-mer as a child, and had simply remained a nameless urchin working in the fields. ' _It would have been like sleeping and slipping away heedlessly, which I can never do now after everything that has happened.'_

In the meantime Jean Valjean was carefully returning the rag to its place on a hook. "I hope you understand what I mean when I say that you and Marius should have run when Perrot accosted us."

"I had to do it."

"I don't wish for you to carry this on your soul, Fantine."

"I would still, only that it would be for letting him do away with you," Fantine retorted. She paused on seeing the surprised look on his face. "After all these years, Monsieur, I can never turn my back on you. Not when you've done so much for me, Cosette, and everyone else."

Jean Valjean bowed his head. "I understand. It is still a heavy sacrifice though."

"A sin you mean, but well, letting you die or return to the  _bagne_  would have been one too," Fantine said. ' _I'm sure Sister Simplice thought this way too that night in the infirmary,'_ she realized. She figured that Jean Valjean must have thought the same way too, for he merely nodded before bringing the dishes to the table.

Supper that night was a quiet affair, with everyone half listening for footsteps, a knock on the door, or any sign of the authorities headed their way. As soon as the meal was done, Fantine wrapped a black shawl around her dress and donned a more inconspicuous looking cap. To her surprise Musichetta did the same thing, taking additional care to hide her lustrous hair under her headdress. "For Bossuet at least. He has no near relatives anymore," she said before Fantine could ask. "If they'll let me, even Patrice as well."

"What will you tell them?" Cosette asked.

"It shouldn't be hard to say I'm Madame Joly. I almost was," Musichetta said before walking out the door ahead of Fantine.

Fantine had only a moment to give the rest of the group a despairing look before hurrying out after the younger woman. "Mademoiselle Laurain, I don't expect you to forgive me," she said once she caught up with Musichetta on the street corner. "I just want you to know that if I could do  _anything_ , I would do it to make sure that this never happened."

Musichetta swiped at her eyes again. "You wouldn't be able to do anything. This...I always knew that there would be fighting."

"Always knew?"

"You're not the only one who knows how to lie to help someone."

Fantine shook her head. "Did you believe in what they were saying too?"

"A little bit. Enough." Musichetta took a deep breath. "It was one of the many, many things I love about Patrice. I couldn't help it."

' _Even if it led to this?'_ Fantine wanted to say, but she willed herself to swallow the words and simply accompany Musichetta to the Prefecture. To their dismay they learned that the morgue was closed, and that relatives crowded outside would only be allowed to identify the bodies the next day. "There's been a disturbance. Dead agents," a gamin hissed.

Fantine nodded even as she tried to keep a straight face. "Where?"

"Fished out of the Seine, look!"

These very words nearly made Fantine sick, even though she knew with a sudden clarity that these were not pertaining at all to Perrot. She seized Musichetta's arm to pull her away from where she was speaking to an acquaintance. "We must go."

"Don't you want news?" Musichetta asked dully.

"Not now, not here," Fantine said.  _'There are many other agents who could have died today,'_ she reminded herself but nothing could quell the panic that rose in her chest with every minute she and Musichetta were in the vicinity of the Prefecture. Thankfully it seemed as if the younger woman was too worn out to argue the point, and so they managed to quit the area within five minutes of arriving.

By the time they arrived back at the Rue del'Homme Arme, the doctor had already departed, leaving instructions with Jean Valjean. "He says that youth is on their side," he told Fantine in an undertone when he drew her aside. "It may be a long convalescence though."

"It's still good news," Fantine said, managing a smile. "I wasn't able to go into the morgue. The Prefecture is in a mess about some dead agent..." she trailed off. "I know we should run, but we can't. Not when Cosette won't leave Marius. I know he can't just leave, not now."

"He will be safe once he is reunited with his family," Jean Valjean said. He glanced to the bedroom where Cosette could be seen asleep at Marius' bedside. "They intend to marry."

"They should," Fantine concurred. "It's the only way now Cosette will be safe. If she is Madame Pontmercy, she'll be protected."

Jean Valjean nodded. "It won't happen right away."

Fantine shrugged even as she heard someone stir and she turned to see Eponine sitting up in the chair that she had pulled up next to where Enjolras was still sleeping on the couch. "How are you?" she asked by way of greeting.

"Very tired," Eponine said as she stretched. "Cosette was telling me that you were thinking some time ago of going to England."

"That was before this," Fantine replied. She felt a pang of pain in her chest as she thought of that plan and how it had never quite come to fruition. ' _Four tickets...'_ she recalled. She looked and saw Eponine running her hands through Enjolras' hair, clearly trying to calm him down from some fevered dream. "Where is Azelma?"

"At Issy."

"You cannot stay there for good." At this Fantine saw Eponine look up. "As soon as Enjolras is a little better, you should go instead of us. Take Azelma with you. Musichetta might want to come as well."

Eponine's hands stilled. "Go...to England you mean?"

"There. Or some other place. It's for your own good."

"Not forever. I'm tired of running."

Fantine smiled with grim understanding. "Then if we meet again, I hope it will be at happier times." She sighed when she saw Eponine nod wearily and then yawn. "You don't have to decide tonight."

"I'll have to convince all of them," Eponine said before yawning again. "Good night Madame Fantine."

Fantine nodded before excusing herself to the back bedroom, where she found a pallet next to where Cosette was still fast asleep. She did not even bother undressing for bed, but was asleep from the moment she lay down.

The next thing she knew, she felt hands shaking her awake. "Maman, have you heard the news?" Cosette asked furtively.

"What news?" Fantine asked, sitting up and blinking sleep from her eyes. She cringed at the light that filled the room. ' _Morning already?'_

Cosette nodded restlessly before shoving a paper into Fantine's hands. "So Grandfather didn't kill the inspector after all."

Fantine looked down at the copy of the  _Moniteur_ that Cosette had handed to her, already folded to show an article. ' _So that is where Javert went after talking to Perrot,'_ she thought after reading the headline, knowing better than to read the account of an inspector's mysterious drowning.


	35. Chapter 35: The Courses We Must Take

**Chapter 35: The Courses We Must Take**

As much as Fantine was ashamed to admit it, she could not help but feel a profound sort of relief on hearing of Javert's ultimate fate. Yet it was not long till even this gave way to bewilderment particularly when she considered the facts presented in the article at the  _Moniteur_. "They are saying that there were no signs of a struggle, so he flung himself into the river on his own accord," she said to Jean Valjean as they were straightening up the apartment's front room on the second morning after the end of the uprising. "Why would he do such a thing to himself?"

"Some great inward disturbance perhaps, that poor man," Jean Valjean replied gravely. "God have mercy on him."

Fantine sighed deeply, remembering how she had heard once in a sermon that those who took their own lives could look forward only to damnation. Although she had reason to fear Javert, she did not want to imagine such a fate even for him. ' _Much of the time he did only what he thought he should,'_ she reminded herself. That had been one thing about him that had not changed from those distant days in Montreuil-sur-mer.

At that moment a light, frantic knocking sounded on the front door. Jean Valjean nearly started but Fantine placed a hand on his arm. "That has to be a friend," she told him before crossing to open the door slightly. Her jaw dropped when she was met by a slight figure wearing a bulky cloak over a rather dusty dress. "Azelma?"

"Madame Fantine! Is my sister here?" the girl greeted as she doffed the kerchief that tied back her dark hair. "I thought I'd look here first, since she hasn't written back yet."

"Yes, they're still resting-" Fantine began before being cut off by the sound of a door opening followed by an overjoyed shriek. She stepped aside just in time to allow Eponine to run to the front door and catch her sister in a tight hug. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

Azelma shook her head furiously. "Why didn't you write, Ponine? I was worried sick!" she scolded her older sibling.

"I was going to write today and tell you things," Eponine replied. "How did you get here though? Are the police searching the diligences?"

"The ones going out of Paris, not those coming in," Azelma said as she clasped Eponine's arms. "Is it true though, that all of them are gone?"

"Not all since Enjolras and Pontmercy are still here. I s'pose I count for something too," Eponine explained morosely. "There are others though, but none of our good friends."

Azelma nodded and wiped at the tears that sprang to her eyes. "But why?" she whispered. "They were such good, good fellows. Why couldn't it have been someone so nasty?"

Fantine looked away and saw Cosette emerging from her bedroom, clearly having just thrown on a morning dress. "I'll check on the gentlemen. You girls talk," she told her daughter before going into the second back bedroom, which had been designated for the two convalescents in their care.

In this room Marius was still dozing, while Enjolras was listlessly reading through the newspaper. His fever had broken but he was still pale."Charles Jeanne is on trial," he muttered as he put the paper down. "Something must be done."

"If you're thinking of leaving so you can speak for him in court, you may as well forget that idea," Fantine said sternly. "You'll heal first before thinking of any more dangerous business."

"This regime will not give him and his comrades a fair trial," the student retorted harshly.

"It will kill you if you speak up," Fantine argued. "Don't do this, not after what everyone's been through to make sure you'll be safe."

Enjolras did not answer for a few moments but he simply folded up the newspaper. "You knew that Citizen Fabre spared the spy," he said at length.

"Not till I heard from Perrot," Fantine replied. "He is dead too," she added as she saw one of Enjolras' eyebrows shoot up.

"How?"

"He was shot."

Enjolras nodded though his expression lost none of its grimness. "Eponine intends to bring Azelma with her to England," he said. "They should leave soon, within the week if possible."

"Aren't you going with them?" Fantine asked. She almost laughed on seeing the flush that rose to Enjolras' cheeks, but she checked herself at the last moment. "It would be safer for them to be accompanied by a gentleman."

"Seeking refuge is one matter, exile is another." The young man took a deep breath and sat up straighter. "It will be easier for them if they will not have a fugitive for company."

Fantine sighed deeply, already feeling a lump in her throat just from speaking to him. In so many ways he reminded her too much of Victor. ' _No wonder he took to you so well,'_ she thought as she retrieved the newspaper that Enjolras set aside. "I dare you to convince Eponine of that," she finally said. ' _I highly doubt he'll succeed though,'_ she remarked silently to herself as she exited the room to the sound of knocking at the front door.

She arrived in time to see that the girls had quit the front room in favor of Cosette's room, while Jean Valjean was at the doorway, speaking to an aging fellow in the simple livery of a manservant. This caller simply bowed when he saw Fantine, mumbled a "Good day, Monsieur, Madame," before backing his way out of the doorway and towards a carriage waiting in the street.

"Who was that fellow?" Fantine asked.

"A messenger from Marius' aunt. She is making inquiries," Jean Valjean explained.

"Does she mean to bring him home?"

"He did not say. What shall we tell him?"

"I do not know," Fantine said with a shrug. Yet even as she said this she already heard the doors opening and she looked to see Cosette, Eponine, Azelma, Enjolras, and Marius all listening in. "You're lucky to have family looking for you," she told Marius bluntly.

"She would," Marius replied gravely as he shuffled into the room; he would have stumbled if Enjolras and Cosette had not been quick to catch him by his arms. He sat down heavily in the nearest seat and buried his face in his hands for a moment. "Did Basque, that man, say anything from my grandfather?" he asked Jean Valjean.

Jean Valjean shook his head. "I'm sorry."

' _They did not part on good terms?'_ Fantine wondered, only to have this thought confirmed by the knowing looks that the other young people were exchanging. "The fact you're alive should be enough to overcome all this bother thanks to politics," she muttered.

"It wasn't about politics," Marius explained in a low voice. He took a deep breath before speaking again. "Do not misunderstand me. My aunt means well, but I cannot..."

"No one is asking you to," Cosette said as she caught his hands. "Maybe now isn't the time yet."

Fantine had to excuse herself then and there on the pretext of making breakfast for everyone. ' _This is not something you can fix,'_ she chided herself. What did she know of a young man's struggles? ' _Perhaps this is where Cosette knows more than I do,'_ she decided.

It became even clearer to her later that same day, when Cosette asked to speak to her in private. "Grandfather said I should ask your permission too," Cosette explained as they ventured into the apartment's narrow back garden. "I know what you told me before, and I also know it seems so sudden to be talking of marriage. But I love Marius. He loves me so much; I'm everything to him, and he means the world to me. It's going to be a hard goodbye of a sort, but I shall be around-"

"Cosette, who said that you marrying him would mean I'll lose you?" Fantine asked candidly. "I'll be gaining a son, so to speak."

Cosette's eyes widened with astonishment before she burst out laughing and embraced Fantine. "Oh Maman, I'm glad you think so! I've always known you'll like him-" she trailed off over the sound of voices from the front room. "What, guests again?"

Before Fantine could step back into the house, Azelma threw the back door open. "Marius' grandfather is here and asking for Cosette!" she announced breathlessly.

"Now stand up straight and hold your head high. Marius will love you all the more for it," Fantine instructed her daughter, who had suddenly turned red at this news. It was all she could do to conceal her own trepidation as she and Cosette followed Azelma into the crowded front room. ' _He's a grand bourgeoisie, he may think we are beneath Marius,'_ she could not help thinking even as she smoothed out her plain dress in an attempt to affect some gentility.

Seated in the most comfortable chair of the front room was a very old man, who would have been stooped with his years were it not for the avid way he was speaking with Marius. The younger man was half-propped up with pillows on the sofa, but he was listening intently without rancour to his grandfather's tirade. Yet at the sound of the women entering the room, the elderly man stopped in the middle of his speech and looked to the doorway. An expression of awe passed over his face as he gazed at Cosette. "Adorable!" he exclaimed.

Cosette took a halting step forward. "Good day to you Monsieur Gillenormand," she said. "It is good for you to visit here."

"No, the pleasure is mine, Mademoiselle," Gillenormand said, springing to his feet. "Here, this chair is yours-it is your rightful place next to my grandson. Call him 'thou' , you should not stand on such ceremony especially in your own home."

Cosette lost no time in rushing to Marius, whose smile was one of pure relief as he clasped her hands. In the meantime Gillenormand bowed to Jean Valjean. "Monsieur Fabian-"

"Fabre," Fantine corrected. "There are no Fabians on this street."

Gillenormand paused and looked to her with a smile. "Far be it from me to offend a lady, Madame Fabre," he said. He looked at Jean Valjean again. "Monsieur Fabre, I have the honor of asking you, on behalf of my grandson, Baron Marius Pontmercy, for the hand of Mademoiselle."

Jean Valjean merely bowed deeply, but he gave Fantine a knowing look as he straightened up. Fantine cleared her throat and nodded. "It would be an honor, Monsieur," she said.

"Then it's settled," Gillenormand said. He turned to one of his companions, a severe looking woman with her dress buttoned almost up to her throat. "There is the way to live! You do not simply find a young man and give him his coins and bandages for your Christian duty. No! You are ungenerous in that regard; what must be done is to ensure happiness and here it is! Talk loudly, everyone! We must give them room to adore each other!"

Even as Gillenormand said this, Fantine already saw Eponine and Enjolras nodding to the newly engaged pair before excusing themselves to the back garden. ' _How long will they stay?'_ she couldn't help wondering, at least till the sound of Cosette's laughter banished these impending shadows.


	36. Chapter 36: Mademoiselle No Longer

**Chapter 36: Mademoiselle No Longer**

Everything was decided in the few hours after this happy visit. The doctor was sent for and he pronounced that within a month one man would be fit to wed, and the other would be able to travel. The household at the Rue del'Homme Arme lost no time in making the necessary preparations, if only to keep from mentioning the matter outright among themselves.

The silence was broken finally on the 16th of July, a fine day by the reckoning of most people. Yet for Fantine it was all she could do to keep from weeping, especially as she saw Cosette standing before the mirror in her room and adjusting her long lace veil. "You're such a lady now, darling. I almost cannot believe it," she said as she dabbed at her eyes.

"You've been saying so for the past hour, Maman!"Cosette teased gently as she smoothed out her delicate taffeta skirt. She clasped Fantine's hands tightly. "Won't you and Grandfather come and live with me and Marius? It is a big house at the Rue des Filles du Calvaire, Marius' grandfather likes you both very much, and we'd be happy together."

Fantine placed a finger on her daughter's nose. "Nothing of that. It's important for a married woman to start a home of her own. You'll be the lady of the house now, you'll have friends and concerns of your own, and all your care will be for Marius and your future children."

"But you and Grandfather-" Cosette began again.

"We'll be fine. I'll take care of him and make sure he eats well. He'll make sure we'll visit you so often you will wish us away soon enough!" Fantine laughed.

"Oh Maman, I could never do that!" Cosette said with a frown. She turned and smiled at the sound of the bedroom door opening. "Am I glad that you all could stay a little longer, Ponine, but  _must_  you leave straightaway after lunch?"

"We can't have the gendarmes turning up at your wedding reception!" Eponine quipped as she entered the room. Although she was clad in an elegantly tailored green dress, she had thrown a travelling cloak over her attire and was carrying an old valise. "You look so lovely, Cosette. I just spoke with Marius outside, and he can't wait to see you!"

"How I wish that we could all be there when you and Enjolras marry!" Cosette replied. "You know that it's going to happen someday!"

"I'd best worry about being safe in England first," Eponine said. "Don't look so sad. It's a good day, not everyone is going away, you still have Chetta and so many other people you know."

"It will still not be the same," Cosette pointed out as she wrung her hands. "Sometimes I used to wish that you and Azelma were really my sisters."

Eponine swallowed hard. "I think you somehow are."

' _Whatever happened to those little girls I used to know?'_ Fantine wondered silently as she saw Azelma rush to join them in the room. She turned away before the young ladies could see her weep and took a few moments to dab at her eyes. ' _Come now, don't make the day melancholy,'_ she chided herself as she headed to the front room.

Over here, Jean Valjean was listening with wry amusement to Gillenormand upbraiding both Marius and Enjolras about 'this century's modes of conduct'; to the nonagenarian's reckoning, the youth of this age were far too grave for felicity. Despite this noisy harangue, Jean Valjean immediately noted Fantine's presence. "Is everything ready?"

"We'll let the girls have a few moments to talk," Fantine replied in an undertone. She smiled on seeing that Jean Valjean had chosen his best suit and even altered the knot in his cravat specifically for this event. "Look at us, pretending to be so dignified."

"I am only a pruner from Faverolles. You are the mother of the bride," Jean Valjean answered.

Before Fantine could make a retort, she saw Marius look towards the backroom door and then fall silent. "Oh Cosette..." he breathed.

Cosette blushed behind her veil. "It's almost like a dream isn't it, Marius?"

"Better than a dream-" Marius trailed off. He extended his hand to her but stopped short at the last moment. "No, we must marry first!"

"Come on then, let's not delay!" Gillenormand chided them. He rolled his eyes on seeing Enjolras pull a dark overcoat over his formal attire. "What is this, flying from Hymen? You are far too young to turn away your face from the register and the rite!"

Enjolras did not dignify these words but he and Eponine exchanged knowing glances, particularly when he discreetly took her hand as the rest of the wedding party filed out the door of Number 7 Rue del'Homme Arme. "You should join your sisters," he said in a low but warm tone before he helped her into a carriage that was already occupied by Cosette, Fantine, and Azelma.

Eponine grinned as she let go of his hand. "For now, till she is Madame Pontmercy. Then I shall be with you shortly."

' _Where have I heard that sort of teasing before?'_ Fantine wondered even as she made room for Jean Valjean to take the last seat in the carriage. Nevertheless she felt more heartened on seeing the sheer exuberance on Eponine's face; there was an honest affection there that had been absent in the way that Fantine's friends had once flirted with Tholomyes, Blacheville, Listolier, and Fameuil on summer days such as this. She frowned when she saw Azelma sigh wistfully. "You are hardly sixteen," she chided.

"I won't be sixteen forever, and I told Monsieur Combeferre so," Azelma replied quickly.

' _Him and her, who would have thought?'_ Fantine thought, feeling a pang at the recollection of this young doctor's death at the barricade, as well as Victor's untimely demise. She willed herself not to dwell on these as the wedding party began the journey to the mayor's office, but instead she silently revelled in the young women's amiable chatter as well as Jean Valjean's calm but quiet presence.

It seemed like an eternity had passed till all vows were said and blessings given, but at last before noon that day Marius and Cosette were now pronounced as Monsieur and Madame Pontmercy. The sound of these words as well as the radiant smile on Cosette's face was like a balm to Fantine's mind. ' _Finally she's safe!'_ Fantine thought as she heard the cheers that greeted the newlyweds when they exited the church and made their way to the carriage. The day was blissful; there was no sign of rain in the air and in fact it seemed as if the shadows had been banished from the streets. Fantine heard laughter in her ears, but it was rich and low. She turned and met Jean Valjean's broad smile as they took their seats in the carriage with Marius, Cosette, and Gillenormand; the Thenardier sisters had opted to take the second carriage as a matter of precedence.

"It feels like a dream, doesn't it?" Cosette said to Marius. "I almost fear as if it will be snatched away."

"After everything we've been through, we'll know how to hold this close," Marius reassured her. He smiled at Jean Valjean and Fantine. "You have given me the greatest gift today."

"My daughter is not a gift, not when she has chosen you," Fantine replied, making Cosette blush even more deeply.

The wedding party then proceeded to the Rue des Filles du Calvaire for a banquet. By this time the newlyweds' home was filled with guests, mostly family friends of the Gillenormands. Musichetta was among this crowd of well-wishers, and was among the first to greet the bride and groom. "Your name suits you better now Cosette," she said lightly to her friend. "I am so glad to  _finally_ see you both happy," she added in an undertone.

Marius nodded gratefully. "We're glad for your presence, Mademoiselle Laurain."

"You should be. What would I do in England?" Musichetta said. She paused and nodded when she saw Fantine. "You and Monsieur Fabre must be proud."

"It's not my doing," Fantine reminded her gently.

"I'm glad you know," Musichetta said. She nodded more politely to Jean Valjean. "It's good to see you Monsieur," she said before going off to speak to her other friends.

' _It will take time,'_ Fantine reminded herself as she and Jean Valjean went to greet and mingle with the other wedding guests. While they were exchanging pleasantries with one of the Gillenormands' more distant relations, Fantine happened to notice a bright suit moving in the company. ' _That spindly face is one I'd know anywhere!'_ she thought with unmitigated alarm as she laid a hand on Jean Valjean's arm.

By this time the newlyweds had also noticed this arrival. "You are quite free in making your appearance here, Monsieur Thenardier," Marius greeted frostily.

"I am only here to wish my benefactor and his lovely wife well," M. Thenardier said, making a sweeping bow. When he straightened up he happened to catch sight of Eponine and Azelma, and his cordial expression changed into one of contempt. "What, there you two are! Are you simply going to ignore your Papa after all this time?"

Azelma's eyes widened and she shrank behind her sister. The older Thenardier girl squeezed Azelma's arm before giving M. Thenardier a baleful look. "I would know what else to say if you had not been silent first," Eponine said.

"I'm a busy man," M. Thenardier said. "Now why don't you be a good girl and tell me what you've been up to. What's this I hear about you and a young man-"

"That is none of your concern."

"All your good luck and to leave me out in the cold?"

Fantine cleared her throat reprovingly. "Monsieur, this is not the time for arguing. It is not respectable."

"You are one to talk, Madame Fabre," M. Thenardier sneered. "If that is even your-"

"It is  _Mademoiselle_  Fabre to all of us," Eponine cut in, now taking a step forward so that she was between her father and the rest of the group. "No one asked for you to be here; it would have been good to receive you elsewhere but not at this place."

Thenardier's face twisted in a leer. "Hussy!"

"And for that, Azelma and I shan't be coming with you either," Eponine added. "We're going far away where you can have nothing to do with us."

"Just like that? Who will fend for you both?" Thenardier asked dramatically.

"They do not need 'fending for', but they will not be alone either," Enjolras said, now taking a step so that he was beside Eponine. "I should warn you that you will not find any concession to mendicancy, whether with your daughters or any of their associates."

Thenardier looked as if he would spit at Enjolras. "You've ruined her, haven't you?"

"She is no possession of yours, and there is nothing criminal or indecorous in my regard for her," the young man answered.

Marius cuffed M. Thenardier firmly. "As your supposed benefactor, I would advise you leave and do not trouble us any longer."

"But my expenses-"

"This is a wedding, not business. Go."

Thenardier donned his hat before making a low bow. "Forgive me for the interruption, my dear benefactor and benefactress. My best wishes."

Fantine shuddered as she watched M. Thenardier leave. "I do not hope he will come back," she murmured. "Not even for money."

"He will not. He's been shamed enough," Eponine remarked. She sighed as she looked at the Pontmercys. "That too is another reason we must go, and quickly too. I do wish we could stay."

Cosette nodded sadly. "You will write, will you? Tell us when you're all safe."

"You'll tire of my letters. Anyway I doubt we shall be away forever," Eponine said, giving Enjolras a conspiratorial look. She bit her lip before hugging Cosette. "Till we meet again, sister."

Cosette nodded and embraced Eponine and then Azelma. "We shall."

Enjolras shook Marius' hand. "You'll do well. I shall look forward to hearing from you."

"And with hearing  _of_  you, my friend," Marius said with a smile.

Fantine hung back to let the young people make their goodbyes, till Eponine nodded to her. "I wish you a safe journey, you three. Your mother would have been proud."

"I s'pose so," Eponine said with a grin. "Thank you. And not just for the wishes."

Fantine sighed with relief, feeling suddenly lighter even as the three travellers finished making their goodbyes before discreetly quitting the hall. ' _Someday, maybe someday!'_ she told herself. She could trust in life being long and the road convoluted enough for them to perhaps cross paths once more.

The rest of the day was given over to revelry, toasts and speeches, and a little dancing till some more of the wedding guests took their leave. Jean Valjean nodded to Fantine. "To home now?" he asked.

"Yes, it is about time," Fantine agreed. She smiled as she went up to Cosette and Marius. "Monsieur, Madame, it has been a good day. God bless you both."

Cosette nearly burst into tears while Marius grinned broadly. "You too, Mademoiselle Fabre."

"Call me Fantine," the older woman corrected him gently. "That suits family better."

After taking their leave of the newlyweds, Jean Valjean and Fantine took a fiacre back to the Rue del'Homme Arme. They were silent up until Jean Valjean brought the house keys out of his pocket. "No more Mademoiselles, Madames...that is a change."

"I need it," Fantine replied. "What then shall I call you?"

Jean Valjean paused for a while. "Monsieur Jean will do."

Fantine nodded. "Then it is nice to finally be home, Monsieur Jean. Thank you," she said before helping him turn the key to let them both into the house.


	37. Epilogue

**Epilogue: What Springs Up Past the Frost**

_December 2, 1847_

_Lyon_

_Dearest Sister,_

_I hope that this letter finds you and everyone happy and well. To reply to your last letter: yes we are safe, yes we will not be in Lyon for very long, and yes we are still headed to Paris._

_Azelma is thrilled beyond belief to finally show Monsieur—or rather Doctor Smith Esquire and of course their little ones Minette and Vic the places we all knew. As for my dear Antoine, you and Monsieur Pontmercy can probably imagine how he is now, doing something other than writing for the newspapers. It is one thing to see his words in print, but to hear him actually say them to a crowd again is a whole new thing. It is not like how it once was, before the barricades, but something even more beautiful. He sometimes says that make far too much of it, especially when telling Gabriel about it-but can I help telling my son how proud I am of his father? Of course I tell my boy, and Minette, and Vic about you and Monsieur Pontmercy, and your children. Minette says that she feels as if she knows you all so well, even if you all have yet to meet._

_Your news about the recent banquets in Paris is heartening. Who could have thought of using revelry to be downright political? I could not help but tell Antoine about it, and he has spread the word too here in Lyon. We have been having our own little parties too, and there is nothing that the police can say about these sorts of assemblies. I hear more of this sort of thing is happening in other towns too. So now I think we can hope for something better, or for at least more to happen compared to what we survived all those years ago. Some of us here in Lyon believe that the people are at last ready for it, others (like me) believe that maybe that they are finally tired of having the Pearhead ruling France. It is a change at any rate._

_Of course I don't want to be so sure about what will happen by the time you read this, but this I am sure of-we will see each other again, and soon._

_Send my greetings, and Antoine's, and Gabriel's to your family, especially your mother. It's good to be finally coming home_

_All my love,_

_Eponine Enjolras nee Thenardier_


End file.
